Ghosts
by Whackadoo
Summary: In the course of a typical hunting trip, Dean comes face to face with a ghost of his own. Leading to some tough decisions and a look back at some memories he'd rather keep buried.
1. Chapter 1

1-

The sun is shining brightly on my 8th birthday party and I can hear the squeals of the girls in the bouncy house. I look up at the man next to me, take a last bite of cake, throw him a thumbs up, and run to join them. As I bounce, grinning like a fool at the girls around me, the world starts to spin. What's wrong? Is the bouncy house deflating? Colors start to swirl around me and I feel like I'm starting to fall...

...I'm locked in a cage! What's going on? How did I get here? I can just see Bradley, a kid from school, in a cage like mine. "Bradley! Hey! What's going on?" But he just rolls his head toward me, like he can barely hold it up, and shushes me like we're in the library. I look around and there are other kids here besides me. How did we all get here? There's a sound and I try to look around but it's hard to see through the small holes in the cage. Suddenly, there in front of me is the same man from my party. "Ben, Ben! I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?" He somehow busts the lock and I crawl out and everything goes black...

...Suddenly I'm walking into our garage. My mom's boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, so I creep over to his car. He keeps it buried under a dirty old tarp. I'm not sure why. The car is a sweet '67 Impala. He's shown it to me before. Even let me sit behind the wheel once or twice. Of course the car was parked and the keys weren't in the ignition. I take a last look around. The trunk is open, so I assume he must be around here somewhere, but I don't see him. I look into the trunk to find there's a gun sitting just inside the edge. I pick it up, checking it out. I feel like I'm in a movie or something. It's heavier than I thought it would be.

"Ben! Put that down! What have I told you?" Mom's boyfriend bursts into the garage and snatches the gun from my hands.

"But I don't get it. You had your own rifle when you were my age." I accuse him, hoping to turn this into my favor in some way.

"Ben, mark my words. You will never, ever shoot a gun, ever."

"I know what's going on. You think something might be coming for us." He has been acting weird for awhile now. He made us move away from my friends. Practically won't let me out of his sight anymore. He seems totally freaked.

"There's nothing coming for us." He says it almost like he'd believe it himself, if he says it a few more times.

"I could do what you do. You could teach me how to shoot-"

"Shut up about the freaking gun, okay!" He yells, exasperated.

Everything goes black again and I feel like I'm falling...

...I shoot upright, gasping. A cold sweat breaking out on my brow, his words still ringing in my ears. The sheets on my bed are a twisted mess. I've been having the same couple of dreams off and on for weeks now. They aren't nightmares, per se, but I find them very unsettling. I feel as if I should know who the man is that keeps popping up in them, but I just can't place him.

In the other dream, I'm a kid again, getting ready to go trick-or-treating. The same guy from my previous dream is there waiting for me to reveal my costume. I have apparently been working on it myself and seek his approval. I come out and he cracks a huge grin, "A Wendigo? Pretty awesome, Ben!" I have succeeded. He seems truly impressed.

He escorts me around the neighborhood like most other parents are doing, always keeping a discreet distance. Having parents, or even boyfriends of parents, walking with you is never cool. That, and I think, he doesn't really want to get close enough to anyone else where a conversation might start. He always seems uncomfortable in large crowds or even small groups. Seems more of a one on one kind of guy. Keeps to himself whenever possible. Even at home he doesn't talk it up a lot. Oh, and did I mention that in the dream, as he takes me around, that he has a handgun tucked into the back of his pants? He doesn't think I know it's there, but come on, kids see everything!

This dream always ends just a bit differently. Sometimes, we get home, I turn to show him my candy haul, and he's gone. Just vanished into thin air. Sometimes he disappears while I'm still out trick or treating. The timing is different every time but he always disappears.

The dreams seem real enough. They feel almost like memories. I've even seen the photos mom took of my eighth birthday, complete with bouncy house. The dreams are _very_ real. But who is this guy? Mom doesn't seem to remember anything from my dreams, let alone some guy living with us when I was a kid. I sometimes wonder if he isn't a figment of my subconscious brain, toying with me about my waking quest. The thing, outside of work, that has consumed my waking hours...the search for who my biological father is. Every attempt I have made has led to a dead end. Maybe I need to back off. The obsession is starting to seriously affect my sleep. And when you're a cop, you really can't skimp on the sleep when you get the chance to bag some.


	2. Chapter 2

2

"Hey newbie! You got my donuts and coffee?" Sgt. Copes bellowed out as soon as my feet crossed the threshold into the office.

"Sarge, you DO know I've been here for a year and a half now, right? I'm not really the new kid anymore..." I sighed and handed him some donuts and a coffee, smirking at him. His face lit up.

"I know, but everyone that I train up, will always be a newbie as long as I live and breathe! Wait! These are jelly donuts! How long you gotta work here to know I hate jelly donuts?!"

I snagged the bag back from him, "Guess I'll have to eat those for ya! Anyway, you should be watching the fat intake, Sarge. You know what the doc said." This got some laughs from some of the others in the room.

"You gonna let that kid talk to you like that Sarge?" Bailey called out, winking at me behind sarge's back.

I made my way to my desk, chuckling. I have to admit, it could have gone much worse in my first year as a cop. I'd heard the stories of the hazing and practical jokes that are often part of a rookie cop's first year. I've been lucky. I've got a great Sergeant and crew for my rookie assignment. They are all business when it calls for it, but otherwise, they're all very laid back and truly treat each other like family. In fact, I think I've been invited to dinner to almost everyone's house so far. Well, except for Bailey. Tom Bailey was the only other bachelor in the department, besides me. Instead of dinner at his place, the two of us would hit a bar every once in a while together. He always gets upset that the ladies seem to gravitate towards me and not him. I tease him that it's because of my natural charm and that I get it from my dad. Then he says he'd love to meet my dad some time, which is ironic, since I have no idea who my dad is!

I have a bit a of a tougher road to follow when it comes to figuring out who my father could be. Most kids in this situation are often adopted and can, at least, get started by going to the adoption agency. This doesn't always work out, but it's at least a place to start. Not adopted. Strike one. I've talked to my mom a lot in the last year, finally getting her to open up to me. When I was a kid she always put a quick end to my questions. I think, now that I'm older, she's taking my questions more seriously. She told me she doesn't like talking about that time in her life; says she made some dumb choices; partied a little too much; slept with guys she met in bars. She's not going to hide it from me now that I'm an adult, but she only hopes that I can learn a few good lessons from her mistakes. She honestly has no idea who my father was, and since no one has ever shown an interest in us, she figures we're better off without him, then. So, strike two.

I'm hoping that today I don't strike out again. I finally broke down and talked to Amber down in our crime lab. She's become a good friend since I've been here. I find it's nice to have a friend who understands the world of law enforcement without being IN it quite the same way. She has a level head and keeps me grounded - kind of like a sister I never had. She had mentioned DNA testing to me, one day, in a case she was doing lab work for. I asked if there was any way for me to determine my biological father with it. Without a sample from him or from another child of his, she explained, there was no way. She did, however, have another idea. This would be my last hope and, frankly, not one I'm sure I want to work out. She said she could compare my DNA sample to DNA samples on file in the national database the police use. Whenever a DNA sample is obtained, either through evidence collected at a crime scene, or those samples taken from a suspect as part of an investigation, they are kept on file. So, good news, if she finds a match, I've found my father. Bad news, if she finds a match, it means there's a more than 80% chance my father is a criminal of some sort.

How badly do I really want this to work? On the one hand, if she gets a match, my search can move forward, for better or worse. On the other, if she doesn't get a match, I'll be left at a dead end with no answers. Right where I started. So, I guess, I would rather her have success. Whether he's a crook or not, at least I will have found him. And almost as if someone were reading my mind, my phone buzzed. I looked down at the screen. Crime lab. It was Amber calling with the results. My heart started thumping and my hands were getting clammy. My reaction was ridiculous! Isn't this what I've been wanting for so long now? I cleared my throat and picked up the phone.

"Officer Braeden."

"Hiya Ben, Amber here. You got a minute or two to come down to the lab?"

"Sure thing. Down in a minute." I got up from my desk and caught Sarge's eye. "Amber just called from the lab. Needs me down there for a minute. Probably about those prints I dropped off last Friday..." Sarge nodded and I headed out.

Our crime lab is on the basement level. I'm not sure if that's because it's closer to the morgue or if it just happened that way, but it always gives me the creeps down there. I pushed open the door to Amber's office, plunked down in the chair, and kicked my feet up on her desk. "Hey! Feet off the desk, you!" Amber was about five and a half feet tall with long straight auburn hair that she always kept on top of her head in a makeshift bun, usually held together with a pencil or some such item.

I chuckled, "So what's up? You call me down here to tell me you found nothing and to soothe my wounds?"

"Nah! I called you down here to tell you I found something...AND to soothe your wounds." It took me a second to catch what she said and then I just sat there and stared at her like she'd grown a third arm. Then, as what she said fully hit me, I jumped up out of my seat and started pacing in her tiny office.

"Seriously?" I asked. She just nodded at me. "Then why would you have to soothe any wounds? That's great news, isn't it?"

"Maybe...could you...I don't know, just, sit down! The pacing is driving me nuts, okay? Now listen, I thought I told you that if I got a match, then that means your father is a, well..."

"A crook? A scamp? Not a law abiding citizen? Yeah, we went over that. But I find, now that I'm faced with it, I don't care! I'm just happy to finally get some answers!" She looked at me for a minute. I mean _really_ looked at me. Like she was trying to decide something, but I could see the decision was made because she heaved a great sigh.

"Okay, well, you may not feel that great once I've dished this out to you. Alright, let me start by telling you that I had to pull some major strings to get ALL the files on this guy. It wasn't easy, so you owe me big!"

"Okay..." The law enforcement world seemed to be run on favors owed to each other, to other cops in other jurisdictions, to feds, and even to those outside the force. If she had to pull favors, then what she had to share with me must be big. Like, maybe national-big.

"Okay. So I found someone with a 97% match. That's pretty much a sure thing. This guy is, for sure, your biological father. I also want you to know, that at the time of your, um, I mean, when he was with your mom, he seemed to be clean. Well, at least the known criminal record doesn't go back that far. But he's been a very bad boy since then. The small stuff is credit card scams and a few drunk and disorderlies. I can't see where the guy has ever paid any taxes of any kind, state or federal. Then the weird stuff...multiple counts of grave desecration which includes the exhuming and burning of bodies..."

"Wait...what?" What the heck was this guy into? Some sort of crack pot satanist or something? Amber looked at me again. Possibly judging whether to go on or not.

"You heard correctly. There's also an occasion where he was involved in a hostage situation in Milwaukee. He got away, adding a few more deaths to his body count. But by this time he had garnered the attention of the feds. He was suspected of murder in St. Louis. I mean, caught at the scene with the blood on his hands and holding the knife, suspected. He was later found dead and the case was closed. Then a year later he is caught in Baltimore, again found at the scene of a murder. No conclusive proof that time, but it DID prove he wasn't really dead and had somehow faked his death in St. Louis. The feds soon caught wind of this and were on their way. But, by the time they got there, the boys were gone."

"Wait. Boys?"

"Apparently, this guy was traveling with his brother, who has earned the title accomplice. The police report from the Baltimore case is a bit sketchy. The dots don't all connect. From what I can make out, they were cleared of the crime and let go. Anyway, by the time the hostage thing happens in Milwaukee, they are back on the FBI's most wanted list. Multiple murders and the rest." Amber took a big breath. "The feds caught up to them in Colorado in 2008 based on a phone tip. They were taken into custody and the FBI took them to the local station to await a chopper to take them to the pen in Nevada. Something bad happens, again sketchy reports, but needless to say there's an explosion at the station and according to reports, ah...no one survived. Or so you would think."

"Years later, they turn up again and apparently go on a multi-state crime spree. I mean, crazy shit, like holding up banks, diners, convenience stores, leaving a LOT of dead people in their wake. It seems completely out of character from everything else I've read on them. They didn't even try to hide what they were doing, either! Winking at security cameras and going so far as to have a witness at one scene take video of it all on their cell phone! They were finally caught in Iowa and killed while in police custody there."

"So, I guess we found him and lost him all at once. Sorry, Ben, I know you were hoping for maybe something better than all of that."

"It's okay. It's more than I had before. I...I guess I'm just in a bit of shock. That's a lot to take in... What was his name?"

Amber looked confused for a second. "Oh! I didn't tell you? I'm sorry! It's here somewhere, just a second." She started shuffling through all her notes and papers. "Here it is. Ben, I'd like to introduce you to your father..." she holds out a mug shot of a young guy making a ridiculous face... "Dean Winchester. No known middle name. Nice mug shot huh?" I have to take a minute. I almost feel sick. The mug shot matches the face I've been seeing in my dreams. I get that dizzying sense of deja vu for a second and then it's gone.

"Frankly? He looks like he's full of himself. Untouchable, you know? Guess not, though. Hey, can I have everything? Or at least copies of everything you have on him?"

"Sure, of course! I already made you a set." Amber turned around to the little cabinet behind her and picked up a manila envelope. Handing it to me she gave a small smile. "I hope I haven't totally ruined your day."

"On the contrary. You have given me answers that I have been searching for for a long time and I thank you! Dinner is on me! You name a time when you're free and I'll feed you. Sound good?" I smiled at her. For a girl, she can't cook worth a lick and it's been a running joke between us. She often says she's a disappointment to her gender.

"Deal! This Thursday, 6 o'clock?" She was almost giddy with excitement.

"See you then." and I headed out to get the rest of my work day started.


	3. Chapter 3

3 Three Weeks Later

Dean balanced their coffees, a newspaper, and their breakfast in one hand while attempting to unlock the motel room door with the other. "Sammy! Open the door!"

The door opened to a man in his late 30's with a towel wrapped around his waist. He grabbed the coffee and newspaper and held the door open for his brother. They had just finished a job dealing with a vengeful spirit the morning before. They had been up through the previous night and after finishing up, came back to the motel and crashed, sleeping the majority of the day away. The bag with their breakfast was huge. Sam could see that 24 hours without food had taken it's toll on Dean. There was enough food here for five people.

"So where's mine?" Sam grinned at his brother, taking the bag and starting to dig through it.

"Har har. I think there's a piece of whole wheat toast in there for you; you won't starve."

Dean took off his coat, draped it over the back of a chair, and pulled up to the table. Eating was serious business and Sam knew not to disturb him until he'd gotten a good amount into his gut. Sam grabbed the newspaper, his coffee and a couple breakfast burritos and sat opposite Dean. He quietly perused the paper while they ate.

"Hey, Dean.." Sam said about ten minutes later.

"Hmmm?" Came the mouth full, I'm only half listening, response.

"Check this out. There have been a string of grave robberies in upstate New York. Looks like they have been moving east to west along Lake Ontario. Bodies mutilated or outright missing. Police say there appear to be bite marks on those bodies left behind. Sound familiar to you?" Dean had set his fourth burrito down by this point and was fully listening.

"Sounds like ghouls. Man I frickin hate them. Disgusting!" But it didn't put him off his breakfast, as he picked up his burrito and dove right back in.

"You know. We're only a state away. Why don't we go check it out?"

"Yeah sure, Sammy. But I'm finishing my breakfast before we go anywhere."

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"So where exactly are we headed again?" Dean had turned down the radio now that the station he had been listening to had moved out of range.

"Small farming town called Sunsetview. Used to be a cattle area back in the day. Now it's mostly just farming. Three different towns, all lying to the east, have had a rash of grave robberies and then just nothing. The robberies appear to go on for about two weeks then stop. Then they start up about a week or so later in a town to the west. I can't seem to find any link or connection between the towns. At this point, it just seems random."

"So, if it is ghouls...what? You think we have a group on the move, maybe? Stopping for a bite to eat then moving on? Seems weird. Dad's journal have anything about anything like that?"

They still carried Dad's journal with them on every trip. They didn't always use it, but it has proven invaluable at times. It has become pretty worn over the years. Sam keeps saying he's going to put all the info into a laptop but it hasn't happened yet. Dean accuses him of being nostalgic and maybe he's right.

"Nothing. The only mention of ghouls was that time in Windam back in the '90's"

Dad had gone to look into some grave robberies up in Windam, Minnesota. He had some help from a local cop, and took care of it. Needless to say, they had left behind two young ghouls that didn't take too kindly to their daddy being offed by John.

Twenty years after that, the two remaining ghouls had taken on the form and memories of their victims, in that case Adam Milligan and his mom, and lured Sam and Dean out to Windam. Adam turned out to be a half brother of theirs and the ghouls had used him to get to John Winchester. Of course they didn't know, at the time, that he had passed away and they got to deal with his boys instead. Sammy got hurt pretty bad, if Dean remembered right.

"So...migrating ghouls...lovely." Dean sighed.

Just then Sam's cell rang. Dean only half listened as Sam apparently was chatting with Garth. A goofy, but lovable ex-hunter turned werewolf. Long story.

Sam hung up and said "Huh."

"Huh. Huh, what?"

"Garth says he has someone who has been trying very hard to get in touch with us and he's sending him up here to meet up with us." Sammy got that pensive look on his face.

"He say who?" Last thing Dean needed was for some clown to get caught up in the middle of a hunt.

"Nope, I guess we'll find out."

Dean shook his head and pushed in a cassette and turned up the volume. As the sounds of AC/DC filled the car, they crossed over the state line and into New York.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Ben had been able to get a leave of absence when he spoke to Sarge about his search for his father. Sarge was more than accommodating when Ben revealed he had a solid lead on him. Of course he may have left out the part that his father was a two-time FBI most wanted member.

Ben had poured over the files and papers that Amber had given him for days. He finally decided he should talk to two of the policemen mentioned. Something about the one case just nagged at him and the other had their name mentioned in various reports but nothing solid.

The first one he spoke to was a Detective Diana Ballard out of Baltimore. She had since retired, so it took a bit of time on the phone to track her down. Ben decided to be upfront and honest with these cops. He came right out and told her of his search and that it led to Dean Winchester. He also told her that there were some spots in her reports from her time with Dean that led him to question it. He said he just wanted the truth and her honest opinions. He understood they were wanted for murder and that Dean wasn't spotless. He just needed to know anything she could tell him.

Apparently, it pays to be honest. She told him this crazy story of a justice seeking ghost and that the boys, as she referred to them, weren't guilty of any crime as far as she was concerned. They were actually in town investigating the same murders they had been arrested for. They ended up helping with the ghost and finding the true murderer. She felt they had been misunderstood the whole time. "How does one defend the helpless and kill the things that go bump in the night without coming across as a murdering crack pot?" she had said. Sadly she had no idea if they were even alive or dead or how to find out. I thanked her for her time and hung up.

A ghost? She really sounded like she believed it all. I guess I never really put much thought into anything supernatural in nature. In my line of work, there was enough horror, that I didn't need to make any more of it up. Ghost stories aside, she really felt like Dean, and his brother Sam, were good guys. The first and only ray of hope to this Dean guy's character.

Next up on my call list was a Sheriff Jody Mills out of South Dakota. She never makes reference to Dean or Sam by name, but she has had several odd reports over the years, some of which coincide with sightings of either 'the boys' or their car. The car they drove was quite easily identifiable and was always on the back burner for police departments to keep an eye out for. A '67 Chevy Impala, 4 door, black. It also appeared in my dreams and I'm beginning to wonder how fictional my dreams really are.

Again I started my conversation with the honest truth. She immediately told me everything she knew. In fact, when I introduced myself, she almost sounded like she already knew my name. She had had several occasions where she worked with Dean. And, like Detective Ballard, she told fantastical stories of zombies, creatures she called leviathans, demons, and even a roman goddess! I'm beginning to gather that Dean and his brother traveled all over the country hunting...well...things! If it weren't for the content of some of my dreams, that may actually be memories, I would have tossed her comments out without another thought. But two good cops, both telling these crazy tales? I guess I would have to try to keep an open mind.

Sheriff Mills was eager to try to help and even told me both brothers were very much alive! I couldn't believe my ears! She wasn't sure where they were at the moment, but knew of someone who usually had their ear to the ground, so to speak, that may be able to help. And with that phone call, I was off on the road. It all seemed so surreal! I might just actually meet my father! I had to keep in mind, though, that he probably doesn't want anything to do with me. One would think he would have looked me up by now, if he did. He may not even know I exist, but my dreams tell me different. Now I was just outside Grantsburg, Wisconsin, about to meet a man named Garth.

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The house was a farm house on a secluded road, outside of town. When I pulled in on my bike, I got the feeling I was being watched. It made my skin crawl. As I took off my helmet and looked around, I noticed a few guys out by a barn just staring at me. They must not get many visitors out here. I settled my helmet on the seat of my bike and made my way to the house. Just as I was about to knock, the door flew open and a scrawny guy threw himself at me. He gave me a big hug and said, "You must be Dean's son!"

I can best describe this guy as Ichabod Crane. He would play the role perfectly if the chance ever arose. He grabbed me by the shoulder and ushered me into the house.

"Bess, honey cakes! Come here! Dean's boy is here!" He calls into the house. He introduces himself as Garth with a firm handshake while we await 'Bess'. A blond woman comes in and is all smiles. She reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle but firm shake.

"You must be Ben. What a pleasure! Are you thirsty? Would you like some lemonade, I just made a batch."

"That would be nice, thank you, ma'am."

"Well he certainly didn't get his manners from his old man!" She laughs and leaves to get drinks.

Garth leads me into a sitting area and offers me a seat on a couch. "So, that an Indian you rode in on?"

I'm impressed, most people don't recognize it. "Yeah, it's a 1950 Indian Chief I've been restoring. This is the first big trip I've had her on. She purrs like a kitten. Guess I have a thing for the classics."

Garth chuckled. "You and Dean both. He's still driving around that old Impala. The thing must cost him a fortune in gas alone, not to mention the upkeep."

Bess came in with some lemonade and then quietly left us alone again.

"Listen, anything you could tell me about my father, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Oh, that's no problem! If I had more time, I could regale you with story upon story. Oh, your dad!" He sighs and chuckles to himself. "Sadly, I have a town board meeting to attend in about fifteen minutes, but I'll tell you the important stuff. First, be warned, your dad can get pretty ornery, but he is a teddy bear at heart. Keep that in mind and you'll be fine."

"So, I happen to know that they just finished a job out in Pennsylvania. A nasty vengeful spirit. But your dad is probably the best hunter alive! Course, a year fighting for your life in Purgatory will hone anyone's fighting skills pretty good, I should say! So, anyway..."

"Wait! WAIT! Purgatory? You're joking right? Is that the name of some military boot camp or something?" I'm really trying to keep an open mind, but seriously? Come on! The guy had to be messing with me.

"Oh no. Purgatory as in The Purgatory! You name it, your dad has been there. Heaven? Been there. Hell? Been there. Purgatory? Been there and got the tee shirt! All I'm saying is, he's the best hunter I've ever had the pleasure to know."

He had a big, silly grin on his face. What am I to make of all this? Maybe just change the direction of the conversation...

"So, doubt you'll know, but...do you know why he never came looking for me? I mean, did he even know I existed?"

"Well...I think that's really a question for him to answer. I have my suspicions, but I will leave it to him. I will say, though, that if the man considers you family, he would, and has as a matter of fact, move Heaven and Hell to protect you. His loyalty knows no bounds. Possibly to a fault...anyhoo...anything else I can tell you before I give them a call?" He says this as he pulls out a cell phone from his pocket.

Anything I may have wanted to ask just blew out of my head like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind. Call them? I wasn't expecting that.

"I...uh...call them?" I stammered.

"Well sure! How else will you know where to go to meet up with them? Silly goose!"

"I … wow! I wasn't expecting...okay. If you call them, please don't use my name or that I'm Dean's son or anything. I'm afraid if they knew who I was and what I was up to, they wouldn't want to see me."

"Oh, don't be silly! You're family!" Garth studied the panicked look on my face for a moment. "Okay, fine, it'll be a big surprise, then."

Garth stood up with his phone. I found it comical that people tend to stand and even walk around while talking on the phone. I'm sure there's some pyschological thing behind it. Garth thumbed his phone a few times and held it up to his ear and started pacing back and forth in front of the couch.

"Sam! It's Garth! Heard about the vengeful spirit. Great work as always!...Oh, you know us! Bess is just fine and so are the twins! Uh-huh...yeah." Garth went on for a bit, catching up with Sam. I felt like an intruder on their conversation and, although I tried to tune out the personal comments, I found myself way too intrigued to do so.

Garth turned away a bit and spoke quieter, but I could still hear him. "Well, when they're born into it, the first change isn't usually until after their 16th birthday, so a couple years yet. Well, we've been building up the goat herd quite a bit in the last year or two, so we'll be ready. Uh-huh...yeah. So, where are you two now?"

At this Garth turned back toward me, giving me a thumbs up. Even though I was trying to figure out what the heck he had been talking about, when he had asked where they were, I zeroed in on him and all other thoughts were lost.

"Upstate New York? What's going on up there? I haven't heard anything...Grave robberies...uh-huh...uh-huh...yeah, I would say it definitely sounds like ghouls. You guys be careful and remember they could be anyone. Hey, before you go...I have someone here who has been trying to get into contact with you two for ages. He really needs to meet you guys. Yeah, I know. Where in New York are you, so I can tell him where to go? No, no, he's not a job and I guarantee he won't get in your way. Uh-huh...Sunsetview? Yeah...great! Okay I'll let him know. No, I'm sure he'll be able to find you. Okay, great! Thanks and you two take care of yourselves!"

Garth hung up and smiled at me. I have to admit, his smile was infectious.

"So, I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have to get going, here, pretty soon. The boys are on their way to a small town called Sunsetview, NY. Up by Lake Ontario. They don't know where they're staying yet, but I'm sure you'll be able to find them. Just look for that car of theirs. Well, you're a cop, I'm sure you can handle it!"

"Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me." I stood up and held my hand out to shake his in thanks. Instead, he just grabbed me into another hug. This guy was a hugger!

"It was no problem! I think Dean would benefit greatly by having some more family in his life. Remember not to let his short fuse get the best of you. Stand up for yourself and you'll be fine."

He gave me another hug and led me to the door.

"Thanks again." I called as I got settled onto my motorcycle. Guess I'm heading to Sunsetview, NY.


	5. Chapter 5

At the first gas station I came to, I took a break to make a call. I needed to go into this with as much info as possible. I parked off in the corner of the lot, leaned against my bike, and pulled out my cell.

"Hello, Amber Fitzpatrick."

"Hey, shorty, everything still standing in my absence?"

"Oh, Ben! Were you gone?"

"Ha-ha, very funny. Seriously, though, how is everything?"

"Meh, been pretty quiet, actually. I guess we now know who the trouble maker is around here... So, how did it go? You get any leads on your dad?"

"You won't believe it, Amber. This guy not only knew where they had been recently, but had them on speed dial on his phone! He called them while I was sitting right there and found out where they were for me."

"That's great, I guess..."

"I guess? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just don't want you rushing into anything crazy. You know the history of these two. They're killers, Ben. I just want you to think about this and be careful, that's all." I could hear the concern in her voice.

"I am being careful. In fact, that's one of the reasons I'm calling. I need you to get some info on a case out in upstate NY for me."

"Seriously? You're going to walk into a crime spree and confront your pops? You're gonna get yourself shot before you get a word out!"

"That's not it. I know for a fact that the case I'm asking about has been going on for about two months and that Dean and his brother are literally just leaving Pennsylvania. I just don't want to show up clueless."

I could hear the faintest of sighs come over the line.

"Okay, fine. But I'm getting the info for you, not because I'm okay with this, but because I just don't want you to get yourself hurt! What's the case?"

"A string of grave desecrations in upstate NY, moving from town to town. Any info you can get would be great. Just send it to my personal e-mail address and I'll get it on my laptop when I stop next."

"Grave desecrations? Are you kidding me? And you're sure Dean and Sam have nothing to do with this? It totally matches with their M.O."

"Amber, I wouldn't lie to you. I'm telling you, when Garth called them, they were on the road, leaving Pennsylvania."

"And you believe him, this Garth person?"

"If you could meet him, Amber...I don't think the guy is capable of lying. And when have I **not** been a good judge of people?"

"True, you do have an uncanny knack for reading people. Fine. Okay. But you owe me...say...three more dinners!"

"Three?!" I laughed. "Fine, three more meals. You're probably starving to death in my absence, anyway."

"Oh yes! Withering away to nothing! Okay, then, and what's the other thing?"

"Other thing?"

"You had said that your request for info was one of the reasons you called. What was the other?"

She caught me off guard. I hadn't realized I had said that. I really just wanted to hear her voice. Something to ground me in this crazy adventure I'd gotten myself into.

"Uh, I just wanted to hear your ever charming voice."

"Uh huh...whatever... Okay then. Take care of yourself and I'll get you those case files as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Amber. Keep everyone in line, okay?"

"Always."

And with that we hung up. If she could get me those case files, I could at least go into this knowing a little about what was going on. I gassed up, grabbed a candy bar inside, and headed out again. Twelve hours later, I was pulling into Saginaw, MI. It was a long trip, but I was half way there and wanted to get there as soon as I could.

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"We shouldn't have spent the night in Syracuse, man, we could have been there by now." Dean complained.

"Well as far as we know, actual living persons aren't being harmed and you just had to stop for that all you can eat buffet in Scranton. I thought we were going to have to pay rent if we were there much longer."

"Yeah, well, it's never good mojo to pass up an all you can eat buffet." Dean patted his gut in satisfaction.

"Okay, whatever. We should be pulling into Sunsetview soon, anyway. Still plenty of time to check into a motel and visit the first one or two towns to get hit."

Dean just grumped in his seat and turned up the Metallica to ear bleeding levels.

A little while later, they were pulling into town. The only motel they could find was a little thing out by a small marina. Apparently catering to fishermen and boaters during the warmer seasons. They were on a skeleton staff now, which was just fine with the guys. They got checked in and changed into their suits. Grabbing their fake FBI badges and a gun each, they headed out again. Twenty minutes later, they were pulling into the police station in Mertonville.

"Hey there. What can I do for ya?" Said the clerk behind the counter.

Sam and Dean flipped open their badges and Dean said, "Special Agents Hanniger and Miller. We need to see everything you got on the grave desecrations case."

"Oh. That'll be Officer Teague's thing. Hey Teague! Come here! Feds here to see you!" he called back into the room behind him where only two men sat at desks. One of them looked up and made his way over.

"Officer Teague, what can I do for you fellas?" He asked offering his hand for a handshake. This had to be one of the few times a cop genuinely looked happy to see the Feds. They must not get much in the way of major crime out here in the sticks.

"Hi. Special Agent Hanniger. This is Miller. We need to see everything you have on the grave desecrations." Dean said again.

"Oh, sure. Come on back to my desk. I have everything over there."

He led the way back to his desk, shuffled through some stuff on his desk, and handed two file folders over to Dean. As Dean perused the file, Sam settled into questioning mode.

"Now, these all happened over about two weeks time?"

Officer Teague nodded. "Yeah, about two months ago."

"Any leads since then?"

"Nothing. We're stumped. Other than it has happened now in two other towns and appears to be starting in a third, we have nothing. No finger prints found anywhere at any location, either."

Dean spoke up then. "What's this here about a note? I don't see it here in the file."

"Oh yeah! It's here on my desk. I was looking at it when you came in. Just a second."

He reached around his desk and snatched a photo from on top of his keyboard and handed it to Dean.

"Only the one note the whole two weeks?"

"Yup. Found it staked to one of the bodies. We sent it to the crime lab in Rochester."

"Why is that?" Dean asked while examining the photo, turning it this way and that.

"Well, we're pretty sure it's not written on paper."

Sam leaned over and looked at the photo. "Human skin?" he asked.

"That's what we're thinking, yes."

The guy looked a little green around the edges. Dean was guessing he wasn't used to seeing dead bodies out here. Heck, their biggest crime was probably cow tipping.

"It says 'I'm coming'. Any clue what it means?"

The officer took the second folder from Dean's hands and flipped through it, grabbing a second photo.

"Well, we also serve as law enforcement for the second town that got hit, Rosette, and this note was found there."

He hands the second photo to Dean and on it is scrawled 'for you'. Dean and Sam both exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised.

"No one seems to know what it's all about. Myself, I think it's personal and aimed at someone in law enforcement."

"Why's that?" Sam asked as he took the Rosette file and started flipping through it.

"Well, they must have known we wouldn't release info on something like this to the public. So, if whoever it is has a gripe with someone, I'm thinking it must be a cop, since we're the only ones who will see it."

"Interesting theory." Sam said, nodding his head. Officer Teague beamed like he'd just won an award.

Clearing his throat Dean cut in "So some of the bodies were completely missing and some not?"

"That's correct"

"Any connection between the bodies taken? Same bloodline, anything like that?"

"Not that we can tell. Some were interred just weeks previous, while some were near 100 years old."

"Are any of the remains still in the morgue?"

"Yessir. We have two down there. One from Rosette and one local. You follow that hallway til it splits, take a left and follow it to the end. The morgue has a sign. You can't miss it."

"Thanks. One more thing. Were all the bodies taken from the same cemeteries?"

"Yeah. One in each town, one here and one in Rosette. Here, let me get the names and directions for you."

He went around his desk, scribbled some stuff on a scrap of paper, and held it out to Sam. We thanked him and made our way down to the morgue.

"Dean. What do you think is up with the notes? Obviously whoever it is, is gunning for someone."

"Don't know, Sammy, but I'm not gonna assume anything til we see if there was a note from the third town. Cuz you know what assuming does, right Sammy?" Dean chuckled at his own joke.

"Yeah, Dean, it makes an ass out of you." Sam wasn't going to play into Dean's crap.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and was about to respond to the jab, but they were at the morgue. Upon entering, they noticed a desk to the right, a couple autopsy tables, empty, to the left and a set of double doors directly across from them. No one was in sight.

"Hello? Knock, knock!" Dean called out.

"Who's there?" It sounded like it was coming from behind the double doors.

"FBI." Dean was expecting whomever it was to come out and meet them, but nothing happened.

"FBI who?" Dean let out an exasperated breath and looked at Sam who was grinning ear to ear. Dean shook his head and they went ahead through the double doors to find a gentleman with his hands in a corpse. Well that explained why he didn't come out to greet them.

"FBI us." grunted Dean. "Agents Hanniger and Miller. We'd like to view the corpses from the grave desecrations."

"Oh, sure. Give me a minute." he said, chuckling. He pulled his hands out of the body and pulled off his gloves. He looked to be in his sixties, sported a goatee, and walked with a limp and a cane that he had had hooked on the edge of the table he'd been working at. He held out his hand.

"Garret Jenks, nice to meet you. The bodies are right over here."

He walked around to the left wall where there was a bank of steel doors and opened two of them. He rolled out the trays inside and unzipped the body bag on one of them. Dean and Sam instantly covered their noses.

"Yeah sorry. The body wasn't found immediately after it had been exhumed and had been out in the elements for a couple of days."

Sam leaned in for a closer look and pointed to the shoulder. "Is that a bite wound?"

"Yes. Most of the damage to the body was caused by biting."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but those don't look like typical animal bites."

"You'd be correct. They're human." He looked keenly at us, maybe waiting to see if we were grossed out by this detail. All in a days work, for us, though. After a minute, he seemed disappointed by a lack of reaction and continued. "Now, there are some wounds that aren't bites, such as here on the upper thigh."

He pointed to the thigh and a quite sizable chunk of flesh that was missing. "This appears to have been removed with something sharp, like a knife."

"And the other body?"

"Pretty much identical to this one. You want to see it as well?"

"No. I don't think that will be necessary. Anything odd found on or around the bodies, such as sulfur or anything?"

"Uh, no. Odd question. No, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Okay, well thank you for your time."

Back in the parking lot Sam asked, "It's looking like a positive on ghouls, with all those bite marks. Apparently cutting the flesh off wasn't working fast enough. So you want to check out the local cemetery before moving on to the next town?"

"Yeah sure." Dean was preoccupied with the notes he told Sammy he wasn't thinking about. 'I'm coming for you.' You, who? This didn't seem like a high crime area. Did someone steal someone else's prize pumpkin or something? No. It was definitely more than that. He was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

As the Impala pulled out of the lot, the clerk at the front desk picked up the phone and dialed.

"They're here. Yes father, understood."


	6. Chapter 6

I had hauled ass to get to New York, barely taking the time to sleep much more than four or five hours. I found the only motel in Sunsetview and, using a quick flip of my Michigan sheriff's badge, found out that two guys in a black Impala had checked in as well, but were not in at the moment. The motel was set up like a 'U' with the office being at the base. I requested a room on the opposite side from the Winchesters and put my stuff away.

I decided I wanted to take a look at Dean and Sam's room while they were out and went over to check it out. I knocked to make sure no one was in, even though there wasn't another vehicle anywhere in sight. When no one answered I picked the lock (not hard in these old motels) and let myself in.

Apparently, the guys hadn't stuck around long before heading out again. There was a duffle bag on the low dresser that held the tv and another thrown onto one of the beds. The duffle by the tv had mostly clothes in it. There was, however, in a side zippered pocket, quite a few different driver's licenses and credit cards, all made out in different names. There was also a strange little bag at the bottom of the duffle. It was small enough to be hidden in my hand and tied closed with a short strand of leather. Curiosity winning out, I pulled the leather string and opened the bag. I couldn't make sense of the contents. It appeared to hold tiny bits of bone, a pinch of dirt and some other things I couldn't identify. Shaking my head in confusion, I tied it back up and tucked it back into the duffle.

The other duffle bag on the bed held much of the same. Fake ID's, clothes, and another small bag that I refrained from opening. This bag also held a wicked looking knife or maybe one would call it a small machete.

There was a laptop sitting on the little table in the kitchenette, but I wasn't about to go poking in there. I don't know enough about computers to think I could do so undetected by it's owner. I popped into the bathroom but nothing unusual in there. The guys traveled light, it appeared. Either that, or they just hadn't been here long enough to do more.

I headed back to my room and popped open my own laptop. I opened the email that Amber had sent and continued reading. I imagine Dean and Sam, if they truly were investigating this whole thing, would start at the first town, Mertonville. My guess is that's where they were now. The notes found at the various cemeteries were disturbing: "I'm coming", "for you", and "hunters". 'I'm coming for you hunters'. What did it mean? The suspects were obviously seeking vengeance of some sort. Odd way of going about it, though. How is stealing bodies and eating them threatening to anyone but the already dead. I wondered if the bodies with bite marks had really been eaten or just the flesh removed by teeth only to be disposed of elsewhere, giving the illusion of eating.

I decided to get on my bike and head out toward Mertonville and Rosette. All the towns that had been hit fell along the same main road out here. Maybe I could spot the guys and find out what they were up to. I wasn't ready to confront them yet. As much as I have wanted to find my father, I had never really given any thought to what I would actually say if I ever did meet him. Well, one thing at a time. I popped off a quick e-mail to Amber telling her I had made it safely and thanking her for the files. I included a picture of some fancy dinner I found on the internet, just to mess with her, and headed out.

I was about five miles outside Rosette, on my way to Mertonville when an old, black, Chevy Impala went roaring by in the opposite direction. I was so flustered, I almost lost control of my bike. Keep it together, man! I waited until they were out of sight around a bend and then turned around. I eventually caught sight of them again just as they made a right, heading down some other road. If I remembered from the files, correctly, the Mertonville police also covered Rosette. So there was no office for them to stop by. Maybe they were headed out to the cemetery.

I followed at a discreet distance, but it wasn't easy. It was already full on dark and out here in the boonies, there just aren't a lot of streetlights. Following a black car in the dark isn't a piece of cake. I did come to a cemetery, though, and noticed the Impala parked just inside the entrance, as I rolled by. I went a bit further down the road, cut my engine and pulled off to the side. One nice thing about having my bike, is I can pull it off the road and tuck it discreetly behind a tree where nobody notices it.

I doubled back to the cemetery on foot and watched them from behind an old mausoleum. They went to four or five grave sites that had all been roped off with police tape. I'm assuming the one with long hair was Sam since the picture of Dean, and my dreams for that matter, all had short hair. Sam jumped down into a few of the graves and out of sight. Dean kept a sharp lookout while Sam was down. Every time, though, Sam would climb back out and shake his head. I'm not sure what they were looking for, but apparently they weren't finding it.

As they headed back to their car, I took an involuntary step backward, deeper into the shadows, and my foot came down on a twig, snapping it. I froze, grimacing. At this rate, the guys back home will never let me go on a stakeout. Dean's head jerked up and around. Both men drew guns and held them at the ready. Sam scouted the opposite direction. Between the two of them, their eyes scanned the whole cemetery. They seemed to work like a well oiled machine together.

Dean turned to Sam and made some sort of hand motion that I couldn't quite make out. Sam stayed at the car and Dean headed in my direction. Shit, I'm toast. I didn't want to announce myself to them quite yet. But when choosing between flight or fight, I had always been a fighter. So I stayed put and decided to let the chips fall where they may. To my amazement, Dean stopped about twenty feet away and flashed his flashlight in a large sweeping motion. Luckily, the corner of the mausoleum hid me from the beam.

I studied him in the reflected glow of his flashlight. His hair didn't look like it had changed at all since the mugshot taken all those years ago; short and kind of spikey on top. His face was covered in a neat, trimmed beard. It was short, not 5 o'clock shadow short, but not a full on beard either. His face had a stern expression on it that looked like it was set in stone. It made me wonder if the man ever smiled. It was surreal to be standing there actually looking at the man.

He finally gave up and headed back to the car and Sam. They got in and drove away. I wanted to give them plenty of time. It wouldn't do for them to notice me when I pulled into the motel parking lot. To kill a little time, I pulled out my own flashlight and visited a few of the same graves they had.

They all had busted open vaults and coffins in them. The strange thing, to me, was how the vaults and coffins had been opened. I guess I had assumed they would be pried open with a crow bar or some other tool. These were all broken almost as if they had been hit with a large force. A sledge hammer, it must be. The coffins, on the other hand, looked like they had been ripped apart by hand. As if someone had grabbed the edge and pulled up, but instead of the entire top lifting up, only a piece or chunk came off. So whoever did it, just kept pulling and tearing at it, until a large enough opening had been made to get at the body within.

I just couldn't wrap my head around this one. Who has the strength to tear apart the top of a coffin like that? A tool must have been used. When I get back to the motel, I'll check the files again. I must have missed something in the reports.

When I do get back, I cut my engine early and coasted in, not wanting to draw attention to my arrival. The Impala was there and the lights were still on behind their curtains. I contemplated just going over and knocking on the door, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I'll watch them one more day and then see what develops. Tomorrow they would probably head out to Sandy Creek and visit the cops out there before heading into town here. I intended to be up and out there before them so they wouldn't see me here.

I went into my room, set the alarm next to the bed, kicked off my boots and collapsed onto the bed. I was beat. It had been a long day and the next one would be starting before I knew it. I needed some shuteye. I was out like a light in minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

...I was running through a graveyard, stumbling over headstones, barely keeping on my feet. Ahead of me, Dean was turning back every now and then, yelling at me to keep running. Every time I turned to see what was chasing us, all I saw was some shadowy hunched form. Almost dog like, but human too. I couldn't get a good look and it moved so fast. RUN, Dean would yell, and I would stumble on. I felt like I had been running for hours when suddenly I fell into an empty grave. Spitting a mouthful of dirt out, I rolled over to see what was coming. I could hear heavy panting just beyond the lip of the grave. Then the panting slowly morphed into a low, very human, laughing. It sent a chill down my spine and I turned to the other side of the grave and started clawing at the dirt, trying to get a foothold to get out. Then I felt it hit my back as it lunged into the grave after me. I let out a scream and fell out of bed as the alarm went off. I lay there in a cold sweat, panting. That was a new dream and one I don't care to repeat. I got up and headed for the shower. If I wanted a head start on the Winchesters, I needed to get going.

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"We still have a couple bodies down in the morgue, if you'd like to see them." Officer Ritchie offered.

"If they are in the same condition as those in Mertonville, I think we won't need to." Sam replied

"Yeah, same story. Bite marks all over 'em. Who does that? Disgusting is what it is."The officer made a face.

The officer was still digging through the files and papers strewn all over the desk. When Dean and Sam had arrived at the police station in Sandy Creek, everyone was out. Apparently there had been a multiple car accident and all hands had been called to the scene. Poor Officer Ritchie, here, was left to man the station in their absence. The ghoul case wasn't his and he was trying to find the relevant files from another man's desk.

"Ah! Here it is...um...says there's some sort of item in the evidence locker. Let me go get that and you can look through this while I'm gone. Won't be a minute."

Dean took the folder and started looking through it, pulling out the photo they were hoping to find. Yet another note had been left at one of the scenes. Looking at it, Dean muttered a _sonofabitch_ under his breath and held out the photo to Sam.

"This is certainly starting to look personal, just like Officer Teague suggested, Dean. I don't like this."

The note left behind here had said 'hunters', making the message thus far to read "I'm coming for you hunters".

"Yeah, tell me about it. I'm beginning to feel like the prey and not the hunter and I don't like it." The bad feeling in Dean's stomach was growing bigger by the minute.

Just then the officer returned holding a yellow evidence envelope. "This was with the note. Now, from what I understand, nothing like this was left at any of the other towns. Whoever is doing this seems to definitely be after someone in particular, but darned if we can figure out who."

He handed the envelope to Sam, who had the free hands to take it. He undid the little clasp on the envelope, looked briefly inside, and then tipped the contents out into his hand. There lay one of those little toy Matchbox cars. It was a black Chevy Impala. Dean, upon seeing it, immediately bent over. It sounded like he was about to start hyperventilating.

"Agent? Are you okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. Sorry, must be something I ate at breakfast. So, this little toy was with the note? What does it have to do with anything?" Dean thought he was going to be sick. It's one thing to come after him, but another thing entirely to go after his Baby. It was taking every ounce of self control not to go running outside to make sure she was unharmed.

"We can't figure it out at all. None of it makes any sense. If it weren't for the notes being written on human skin, I'd chalk the whole thing up to kids messing around. But, that seems a bit too far, even for the trouble makers we have around here."

"Can you give us directions to the cemetery, please?" Sam asked, trying to give Dean a moment to get himself under control.

The officer jotted down some directions, asked if there was anything else, and told them to have a good day.

Outside, Dean ran his hand down the roof of the Impala, glancing at the tires as he did so, doing a mental evaluation of his car. Sam grinned.

"You know, I think the toy was only used to point a finger, Dean. I don't think it was some sort of warning that your car is next on the chopping block."

"Shut up, man! Don't even say stuff like that out loud!" Dean got in and patted the wheel as if attempting to make the car feel better. Sam just grinned and rolled his eyes.

Dean looked around at the street and buildings. "Threats to my car aside, Sam, do you see anything familiar in your surroundings? Outside?"

Sam frowned. He began to scan the street, buildings, and other things outside the car, being casual about it.

"No, should I?"

"I think we have a stalker. Let's leave the car here, for a minute, and go across the street to that cafe and get a drink."

Sam nodded and they both got out and crossed to the cafe. They scanned everything as they went and while inside, Sam ordered a couple coffees. Dean stood by the front window looking out at the street. Sam came over and handed him a cup.

"There. Two buildings down from the police station. Tucked in that alley right there." Dean pointed out the window. He knew that the way the sun was shining, there was a reflection on the glass from the outside and they wouldn't be seen pointing anything out. A few buildings down, tucked into an alley was the back end of a motorcycle.

"I see a motorcycle, so?"

"I saw the same one last night pass us as we were heading to Rosette."

"Dean, it's a rural area, and a main road. I'm sure you'll see a lot of the same vehicles out here. It's not that crowded."

"Yeah, well how many locals turn around and follow us back into town?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "Yup, just caught his headlight swinging around as we took that big bend in the road last night. I'm just saying, if someone is out to get us, specifically, we can't be too careful."

"So, what? You wanna go after him? Garth did say he was sending someone up to meet us. Maybe it's him?"

"Well if he wants to meet us, he has a funny way of doing so. Nah. We'll let him be for now, but we'll keep an eye on him."

They walked back across to the car, got in, and headed out to the cemetery. Sure enough, not two minutes after parking, a motorcycle went by out on the road. Sam and Dean just exchanged glances and went about their business. The hairs on the back of Sam's neck were standing on end. He hated the feeling of being watched.

The search at the cemetery turned up nothing more than they already had, which was bupkis. They got take-out for lunch and headed back to the motel.

At the motel they ate their lunch, changed back into their more comfortable clothes and hashed out ideas.

"Now I begin to wonder if it really is ghouls." said Dean. "If it is someone out to get us, it could be anyone and they could just be imitating ghoul behavior to throw us off."

"I don't know, Dean. Those bite wounds were not fake. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make it look like ghouls. Those corpses really did have bites taken out of them. Who would go that far? I mean if I were going to act like something else to throw us off the trail, there are more pleasant things I could think of."

"True." Dean sighed. He hated the not knowing. He just wanted to get to the killing already. Just give him something to aim his gun at and he was good to go. "So, if it really is ghouls, why? I mean, it's not like we specialize in ghoul extermination or anything."

"I just don't know. Vengeance for those two way back in Windam?"

"Sure have taken their time, if that's the case. Well at any rate, let's head into Sunsetview, take in the sights, maybe bag us a stalker. What do you say?" Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"Sure." Sam turned to the bed and picked up his gun, tucking it into his waistband. Dean does likewise and they head out again.

At the local sheriff's department, Sam and Dean went through their routine of asking to see the files and what not. These guys were ready for them, though. Probably tipped off by the Mertonville office. They had their file ready to go when they got there.

"So, when did it start up here?" Sam asked.

"Just last Thursday. So it's only been 4 days and if they stay to the same routine, we have another 10 days to go. We posted men at the cemetery after the first grave was hit. For two days I had men out there and twice they snuck in right under our noses! I can't afford to keep guys out there 24 hours a day if we can't catch them!"

"Maybe your guys dozed off." Dean said. Sam turned and gave him one of those stern what-are-you-doing looks. Dean rolled his eyes. More than likely the ghouls had taken on the form of someone known to the police and walked right past them.

"Possibly, but not every time. No way. They are somehow getting right under our noses and doing their thing." The officer looked pissed and Dean decided not to push him anymore than he had.

"So, there's nothing about a note in the file. They haven't left one yet, huh?"

"Funny you should say that. No note, yet, like the previous towns, but they have left a note, so to speak. Can't make it out, though. It appears to just be letters. We've all been puzzling over it, trying to figure them out."

"There's no photo in the file." Sam looked at the officer with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, well, we were letting Marty finish up first."

"Marty?"

"Our coroner. He'll take the photos when he's done with the body."

"Wait the note was written on the body, itself?"

"Not exactly. Look, why don't you fellas head down to the morgue and check it out for yourselves. Maybe you can have better luck with what the letters stand for." The officer was obviously frustrated. Probably hoping to crack the case when his counterparts in the previous towns had failed to do so.

Sam and Dean headed down to the morgue, each keeping their thoughts to themselves. When they entered, Marty was at his desk, feet propped on the edge of a waste can, listening to music on some headphones. He didn't even notice them enter. Dean walked over and knocked Marty's feet off the can and he jumped a mile out of his seat. He pulled off his headphones and stammered some sort of greeting.

"Special Agents Miller and Hanniger. We hear you have an interesting body in here?"

Marty eyed them suspiciously. "You don't look like Feds. Where's the suits and power ties?"

"We didn't want to mess them up when we go traipsing around a cemetery, later." Dean said as he held out his badge for Marty to look at, Sam doing the same.

"Okay, sheesh, fine. Right this way."

He led them over to a table where the body still lay. Apparently he had just finished with his examination. The body had the typical bite wounds all over it. This one seemed more recent than the others.

"Do you know how long this corpse had been in the ground before snack time?" Dean asked, disturbed at the resemblance, no matter how minor, to his brother, this corpse had. It was male, long brown hair, and appeared to be tall and close in age to Sammy.

"Yeah this guy died in a car wreck, oh, about 3 weeks ago. Family is real upset about this, you can be sure."

"So, we're told the note is still with the body?"

"It's not just with the body, it's in the body. The perp actually carved letters into the corpse's side. Look here."

Marty went around to the other side of the table and we followed. He brought down a lighted lamp and shined it on the guy's ribcage, pulling the stiff's arm out of the way. There, carved into the flesh wa and below it an D W. The initials looked identical in style to the initials they had carved into the inside back door of the Impala as children. The initials, of course stood for Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester. Sam supposed, with the previous notes, he shouldn't have been surprised by a personal detail like this, but he was very much disturbed by it. Very few people, if any still alive, knew about the initials in the car. Dean had kept that piece of paneling in the car even after three rebuilds.

"Thank you for your time. We've seen everything we need." Dean said, shortly, and turned and headed out. He was freaked as much as Sam had been and just needed to get out of the building.

At the car, Dean paused while opening his door, to glance through the backseat to the back passenger door and the initials carved there. He gave a little half grin. He couldn't help it. He still remembered the whooping dad gave them when he saw what they had done.

Climbing in, Sam pointed out that there was a motorcycle parked at the diner across the street.

"Let's get some dinner, head out to the cemetery and bag us a stalker." Dean said with relish. Possibly trying not to think of the implications of the latest developments in the case. After picking up some burgers to go, he practically pealed out of the lot, heading out of town. It would probably be dark soon and he wanted to get the lay of the land before their friend showed up.


	8. Chapter 8

I followed Dean and Sam around Sandy Creek and then waited for them to show in Sunsetview, after the lunch hour had come and gone. They finally showed up around two o'clock. I hung out in a bookstore a few doors down where I could watch them without seeming too obvious. Amber would've been proud.

I could only assume they'd be heading to the cemetery when they left the police station. When they had taken a while to get here from lunch, I had gone out to the cemetery myself. Only four graves had been desecrated. They looked the same as those I had already seen. The cemetery was much larger than any of the previous ones, but so far the four grave sites were all clustered near the back, and oldest section, of the grounds. There were several mausoleums and a small stone chapel that was easily the size of a small house. Any of which could easily be used to keep an eye on the Winchesters. I had found an alternate route back to town, which I used now to get to the cemetery without blatantly following them there.

When I got there, I cut my engine and walked my bike into a back groundskeepers entrance I had noticed on my previous visit. I decided the chapel would provide the best cover and made my way over to it. Dean and his brother hadn't yet made it back here, having come in the front.

I had only been tucked behind a shrub for a minute when I heard them coming. I turned and saw the beams of their flashlights bobbing through the headstones as they came up to the first grave site. As they moved to the other sites, I realized that I would probably get a better view from the back side of the building. As I slowly made my way along the side of the chapel, keeping a close eye out for twigs in the ever increasing darkness, I could hear them laughing about something and then silence once again. I made the corner, took a peek around it, then slid around, making for the far corner of the back wall.

When I got there, I just stood there for a moment, trying to calm my breathing. The adrenaline of sneaking around and spying on people had gotten my heart rate up. I wanted to be able to hear the slightest sound, if need be, and not my own breathing. Once I had refocused, I took a look around the corner. They were gone. I waited for what seemed an eternity, thinking they were down in one of the graves. But no, nothing. I wrestled with my heart rate all over again. Amber's words came floating back to me on the evening's breeze, "They're killers, Ben". What was I thinking? What was I doing? I should have just knocked on their door! But my own cowardice and curiosity gotten the better of me and, instead, I was stalking trained killers, who had been doing this stuff for far longer than I have been alive!

I'm sure all these thoughts went through my head in mere seconds, although it seemed longer. I peeked out once more and, sure enough, they were gone. As I leaned back in I heard the slightest scuff of a shoe behind me and I tensed. Just as I started to turn my head, someone grabbed my shoulder, making to spin me back against the wall. My training and instincts took over. I used the momentum he had given my body and used it against him. As I spun back, I swung my leg around too, hoping, and succeeding, to hook my attacker's leg and pull it out from under him. Unfortunately, he grabbed the leg I had put my weight on as he went down, pulling me off balance and down on top of him.

I could barely see anything in the dark. Whomever had grabbed me, now tried to roll us, so that he would be on top. He succeeded and got a punch in to my face before I could buck him off. We rolled around on the ground, tussling for a bit. I got a good punch into his gut and he got another one into my face, before a flashlight finally turned on and blinded me.

He had me pinned under him and we were both struggling for a grip on each others arms, trying to keep the other from getting off another punch. When the flashlight came on in my face, I instinctively pulled my one hand back to shield my eyes. I realized, a moment too late, my mistake. My attacker grabbed the arm I had raised with both of his hands and, in one fluid motion, rolled me to my stomach, twisting my arm behind my back.

"Don't move!" came his voice in my ear. While holding me, pinned to the ground, he reached around with his other hand and pulled my gun from from it's holster at my side. He then gave me a pat down, removing my wallet and emptying my pockets as he went.

"Get up and don't try anything stupid" He gave a good yank on my arm, twisting it painfully. I got slowly to my feet. I could taste blood in my mouth. The guy had a hell of a right hook. He walked me over to the wall of the chapel and shoved me hard against it.

"Listen guys, I c..."

"Zip it. I'm going to talk, you listen. I know you've been tailing us for the last two days."

I could hear him cock a pistol and then I felt it jab into my back. He let go of my arm and spun me around. He shoved me back against the chapel and shoved his left forearm into my throat. "Sammy, the light!"

Sam had been distracted with my wallet and for good reason. I doubt he was cool with the fact that his brother had just accosted a sheriff. Sam brought up the flashlight and I could see a shocked look on his face. Dean, then, turned back to me and when the light hit my face, he jerked his arm back like he'd been burned. He stumbled back a step, but continued to hold his gun on me.

"What the hell? No...it can't...it..." He stopped stammering and looked up the way people do when they are trying to figure things in their heads.

"Dean. ... Hey Dean. … DEAN!"

"What Sam?"

"This is Officer BRAEDEN out of Grand Rapids, Michigan, according to the I.D. in his wallet."

He had said it with emphasis on my last name, like he was trying to get Dean to understand something.

"Lemme see that thing." Dean said and Sam handed my wallet over to him. He looked through it and I swear his face got paler by the second. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Like the badge says. Officer Braeden of the Grand Rapids P.D."

"What's your full name?"

My full name was there on my driver's license so I'm not sure why he asked. He seemed to be freaking out, maybe even more than I was, but he kept the gun nice and steady.

"Benjamin Isaac Braeden. What's yours?" The gun was making me nervous.

"None of your business." he looked at me, at my ID, over to Sam, who just shrugged his shoulders, and back to me again. Making up his mind about something he motioned toward the ground with his gun.

"Sit on the ground and cross your legs, put your hands on your head, fingers interlaced." I wasn't sure what he was up to and I just stood there for a moment trying to process it all when he shouted, "NOW!"

Once I was on the ground, they moved away a bit and I could hear them whispering to each other. It sounded pretty heated. At one point I heard Sam say "Dean, you're too close to this!". Then more arguing and Dean says, "Like they did with Adam?". More discussion ensued. The whole time, Dean kept his gun pointed in my general direction, waving it around at times. It seemed they had finally come to a consensus when Sam headed back to the car and Dean turned toward me once again.

"I don't know who you are, but you're gonna stay with us until we figure it out."

"I told you, I'm Ben Braeden."

"Uh-huh and that's what Adam said." The look in his eyes was quite intense. His reputation seemed well deserved.

"Who's Adam?" He wasn't making any sense.

"A brother that wasn't, now shut your pie hole!"

So we remained silent, studying each other, while waiting for Sam to return. Dean stared hard at me as if he could make me disappear if he stared hard enough. Occasionally he would mumble something to himself. I tried to study him in return, but his hard gaze was uncomfortable to meet for too long. I noticed he handled the gun like an extra appendage. He was well practiced at handling them it was obvious. I looked closer at the gun. I hated to admit it, but it was a beautiful piece with pearl grips and some nice engraving on it.

What's wrong with me? I'm being held at gunpoint by my own father and I sit and admire his gun of choice? At this point I wasn't sure if I could, or should, come out and tell him I was his son. Again, Amber's warnings came back to me and she was right. I didn't know who these guys were! For all I knew, and it was looking like I could be right, he'd just as rather shoot me, than hug me. Garth came to mind then. He had said Dean was fiercely loyal to family and friends and also not to let his short fuse scare me away. Garth also said he was a teddy bear inside. I looked back at him and his intense glare and pictured a teddy bear holding the gun on me and couldn't help a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, I had heard you were a big teddy bear on the inside and I'm just trying to picture that."

A brief look of confusion crossed his face and then was gone. "You're the one Garth was sending to us." He didn't say it as a question. "Or at least, you were."

"I still am."

"We'll see."

A car was approaching up the small cemetery lane and, by the rumble, I assumed it was Sam in their Impala.

"Nice car. '67 Impala?"

Dean just continued the cold stare, not responding. The car stopped and Sam got out, carrying something with him. It looked like handcuffs, but old school. More like shackles.

"Um. Okay. Hold on a second guys. I'll willingly follow you anywhere. I've got my bike right over the hill there. I don't think we need to get kinky, here."

Sam chuckled to himself, Dean looked hard at him, and Sam just shook his head and shrugged. He, apparently, was enjoying some internal joke at Dean's expense.

"Do we look like we were born yesterday, kid?" Dean asked.

He came over and yanked me to my feet. He kept his gun in my face as his brother pulled my arms behind my back and hooked the shackles to my wrists. Sam led me back to the car and shoved me into the back seat. As I righted myself, Dean slid in beside me.

"Try anything and I'll fill you full of lead." Little did he know, I had no plans of trying anything. I don't know who they thought I was, but Superman I was not.

Sam got in behind the wheel and turned us around, heading out of the cemetery.

"Seriously, guys, my bike. It's a classic, we can't leave it out here for someone to take." I felt almost sick at the thought of leaving my bike out here alone. Amber always said I had an unhealthy relationship with my motorcycle. Maybe she was right, considering I felt as though I was going to throw up. Dean cocked his head to the side, raising one eyebrow, looking at me as if I was crazy and Sam just chuckled again from the front seat.

"Stow it, Sammy. And you should have thought about your poor bike when you decided to follow us."

Sam looked at us in the rear view mirror as I started to hyperventilate.

"Son of a bitch! Fine. Sam give me the extras." Sam tossed back another set of shackles.

Dean tucked his gun into his pants and fastened the shackles on my ankles. He leaned up over the front seat and grabbed something else. By the sounds of it, duct tape. He flopped back into the seat and slapped the tape on my mouth. Sam stopped the car, dug around in his pocket and fished out my keys. They must have grabbed them when they frisked me earlier. He handed the keys to Dean and he got out of the car. I tried to protest someone else riding my bike but it only came out as muffled grunts behind the tape. Dean just rolled his eyes and took off at a jog back towards the rear of the cemetery.

"Your bike will be fine. Dean's familiar with this kind of situation." He chuckled again to himself and started us out again.

He never said another word and I tried to make myself as comfortable as one can be while trussed up like a pig in the back seat. We went back to the motel, which surprised me. I guess I thought they'd take me to some abandoned building to work me over or something. We waited in the car until I heard the familiar sound of my Indian pulling into the lot. At least she made it in one piece.

Sam got out and unlocked their room and then met Dean at my door. They whispered something to each other and then opened my door. They each grabbed an arm, dragged me into their room and dumped me into a chair.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam pulled the curtains and Dean went back outside. He came back in a minute later carrying a duffle bag. Sam opened his laptop and tapped at it for a minute and then closed it. Dean dug through his bag and pulled out various things: Bottled water, knives of various sizes and designs, guns of various sorts, bags and pouches of who knows what, and what looked like a canister of table salt. I started pleading with them to calm down and think this through, but again, with the tape on my mouth, it only came across as the crazy mumblings of the condemned.

Sam came over and he and his brother stood there for a minute regarding me.

"What if it really IS him, Dean?"

"Like you said, we need to be sure."

"I understand that, but what if it IS him?"

Dean sighed and ran his hand down his face. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Should we try to call Cas?"

"We haven't seen nor heard from him in months. No, whatever is going on, we can deal with it. It was my choice to begin with anyway. Not his."

I just sat there looking from one to the other as they talked. 'Is him'? Who was I supposed to be? I'm thinking at this point that my dreams were memory. They both act as if they know me. If that's the case, then why doesn't mom have any memory of him? In my dreams he lived with us! I decided then and there that I was not prepared to tell Dean I was his son. They were freaking me out and, as Amber advised, I needed to be careful.

As they continued to discuss things such as demons and shape shifters, I glanced down at the shackles on my ankles. They had strange markings engraved onto them. They were pretty heavy duty, too. I imagined the ones on my wrists were the same. I could feel the weight of them.

I realized it was quiet and when I looked up, I got a face full of water. What the hell? I shook my head and looked at them like they were nuts. I was thinking they were, too. Dean recapped the water bottle and Sam cam at me with a knife. I tried to stand up and get away but Dean came over and held me down in the chair. Sam went around behind me, lifted my sleeve and cut my arm.

They stepped back again. "Clean for holy water and silver."

"So, not a demon or a shape shifter, or any number of things for that matter. Dean maybe he really is Ben..."

"He could also be one of the ghouls that seem to be hunting us down! There's really no test for them, is there? How are we to know?"

"So what, Dean, you just want to blow his head off just in case?!"

"No! Well, ...no. I don't know, okay!"

As they went back and forth between themselves I was desperately trying to speak through the tape. They finally heard me mumbling and exchanged glances. Dean nodded and Sam stepped forward and ripped off the tape.

"I really am Ben Braeden. I really did visit Garth who told me where to find you. I'm not any of whatever those things are you were talking about! What can I do to prove to you I am who I say I am?"

"Okay, tell us your story. Why did you see Garth? Why have you been following us? Why are you even here?"

Dean sat on the edge of the bed facing me and Sam pulled the other chair around. Okay story time. I didn't think I was ready to dump the whole I'm your son thing on him. So I decided on the truth, but not the whole truth, approach.

"Okay. Starting at the beginning. For several months now, I have been having strange dreams. Have you ever had a dream that felt so real, it was disturbing? These dreams blended memories with fiction. Or so I thought. I would dream about a birthday party I had as a kid but then there would be this strange man in the dream. Just plunked down in the middle of what is memory for me. I looked through old photos from that day and he isn't in any of them."

Dean and Sam exchanged a weighted glance and then Dean waved his hand in the air, asking me to continue.

"Soon, I began to have other dreams in addition to the birthday one. Again they were all really just memories of mine and again the same man is inserted into them. I began to wonder if he was a real person, that maybe I had seen him repeatedly and my subconscious was inserting him into my dreams. Like the mailman or some innocuous person like that. But we started having conversations in my dreams. I started to get truly fascinated with him when he started carrying a gun in his waist band and had a trunk full of guns and other things. I began to think, if this guy was a real person, how would I find out? I mean, in my dreams, he was just a face and a voice. Until the dream with the car."

Dean got up suddenly and left the room. Sam looked at me and then to the door.

"I swear I won't be going anywhere in these shackles."

Sam got up and went to the door, opened it, but stood in it. Not really comfortable with leaving me out of his sight, I guess. I could hear him talking to Dean but Dean's responses were muffled. He was too far away to be heard by me. I tried to think if I had said something to upset him, but could think of nothing.

Sam came back and Dean followed him in carrying a couple bottles of beer. He cleared his throat and said he had just needed a drink. I could go for one too, but wasn't going to press my luck.

I decided to use the impala as the way I had found them, instead of DNA. I'll just pretend I pulled the license plate number from a dream...

"So, uh, the car. In a couple of my dreams the man had a very nice old car with a trunk full of weapons, as I've mentioned. One of the dreams runs much like a nightmare with cages and a monster of a woman. In that dream there are flashes of a license plate. Just the plate against a black background...KAZ 2Y5... Anyway, one day at work, I looked up what I thought was the license number and hit the jackpot. The car really did exist and not only that, you existed. The mystery man from my dreams. You should see your police records. Scary stuff."

"So what, you came all the way out here to stake your claim to fame and bust a couple of old FBI most wanteds?"

"NO! Nothing like that. Don't get me wrong," I said looking right at Dean, "you scare the shit out of me. No I was more on a personal mission. The dreams were getting more intense and waking me up at night. I needed to solve the mystery for my own peace of mind. So, the car was real, you were real, then I needed to find out why you were showing up in my dreams. Had our paths crossed at some point that I wasn't aware of? So I decided to talk to a few of the cops mentioned in your files. Maybe if I could get first hand accounts of someone's time with you, I could discern more about you and maybe figure out how I knew you. I talked first to a female cop out in Baltimore. I can't recall her name."

"Detective Ballard?" Sam offered. Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "What? I have a thing for names."

I smiled. "Yes that sounds right. She told me some crazy story about ghosts and how you two had helped her out. Then I spoke to a Jody Mills. I really liked her. Crazy as a loon, but nice."

"Wait. Crazy as a loon?" Sam asked.

"Don't let her hear you say that or she'll pop a cap in your ass." Dean said, shaking his head. They obviously had more of a passing relationship with this Sheriff Mills woman.

"I'm sorry, but what do you want? She told me crazy stories about zombies and goddesses. What do you expect me to think? Anyway, she told me everything I wanted to know and then some. She's the one that let me know you two were still alive."

Sam cut in again, "Wait she told you, a cop, that we were still alive? Why would she do that? What did you tell her to get her to tell you anything?"

"Only the truth. I told her my name and what I was looking for and she told me."

The brothers nodded at that. They obviously both know who I am and it's driving me nuts, because they continue to pretend this is all news to them.

"Anyway, she directed me to Garth, saying he knew more about current events, so to speak, and he might know how to get in touch with you. The rest is history. I met with Garth and he called you and here I am."

"You met Garth? What's he look like?"

"Um...Ichabod Crane?"

Sam busted up laughing and Dean actually grinned. The first smile I've seen on him since I got into town.

"He hugged me a lot, called his wife, uh what was it, honey cakes, and said you had a short fuse but were a teddy bear on the inside."

"Sounds like him all right." Sam offered still chuckling to himself.

"So why have you been tailing us? If you wanted to meet me, why not just knock on our door?"

"Good question and one I've been asking myself ever since you clocked me back at the cemetery and threw me in chains. Listen, you two have a police record that's a mile long, with two separate trips to the FBI's most wanted list, that includes not only lots of weird satanic shit, but lots of murder too."

"Hey! None of those were on us!"

"Uh-huh and that's what everyone in prison says too. Listen, all I'm saying is, you guys were a pretty scary unknown and I wasn't so sure just walking up to your door and knocking on it was the most prudent course of action."

"So you traveled out here, to meet us...why? Hoping it would jog some sort of memory?"

"I was hoping you would know me, which you obviously do. I can read it all over your faces! I just want some answers. Look I know you're on a case. I'm still not entirely sure what it is you think you do. I know that whomever is behind all of this is gunning for you two, so you obviously crossed someone at some point. Which, of course is shocking! I also assume that if we go stake out the cemetery, instead of dicking around here, we'll probably find out who, exactly that is!"

I had reached my patience level I think. I gave them straight answers, sort of, the least they could do was the same. They looked at each other again. I swear, it's uncanny the conversations the two of them have without ever saying a word. Sam got up and came around behind me. He removed the shackles on my wrists and then those on my ankles.

"How about you tell me your story now? I've told you mine. What exactly do you think I am? What do you think you're hunting here? And how can I help?"

"Oh, absolutely not! You are not helping in any way! You want to help? Go home!" Dean exploded.

"Funny, you sound just like you did in my dream when you told me I would never shoot a gun, ever. I'm a cop, man, I think I can handle it."

That stopped him short. He got a far away look in his eyes.

"Dean, he should know. The wipe is obviously crumbling for whatever reason." Sam said.

Dean heaved a sigh and dropped his face into his hands. Looking up again he said, "Okay, the short, and I mean short short, version. I first met your mom before you were born. We spent one weekend together. Eight years later I was in town on a job and swung by. It was your birthday party. Later, I ran into a rough patch..." he looked over at Sam who then looked down at his shoes. "Anyway, she let me stay with you guys for awhile. What I...what we do, is dangerous and it's easy to make enemies. You and your mom got into some trouble because of me. I knew some powerful people who helped out. They wiped your minds of any memory of me. I did it to keep you safe. That's it, story over."

Dean stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside and looking out. He sighed and looked back at me. I had started crying. I wasn't happy or sad, really. I think it was relief more than anything else. I wasn't going crazy. The dreams really were memories. Sam looked concerned about my tears. Not very manly, I'm sure.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Relief that I'm not going nuts, I suppose. I do have one question, though, that has been bugging the hell out of me."

Sam raised his eyebrows in response.

"What's a wendigo? Apparently I dressed as one once for Halloween and Dean was pretty proud of my costume."

Dean actually laughed at that. "Tell him Sammy. Tell him everything. I don't care anymore. I'm too old for all this shit."

Sam not only told me what a wendigo was, but about ghosts, demons, angels, vampires and more.


	10. Chapter 10

Turns out Ben was staying across the parking lot from them. Sam had stayed up til almost two in the morning telling him all about the stuff they hunt, and have hunted, over a lifetime. Dean just leaned against the window frame, drinking his beer, and watched. Sometimes pacing around the room. When Ben left, Dean handed Sam a beer.

"So what do you think?" Dean continued to walk around the room.

Sam felt like he was trapped with a caged bear. "I think he's legit. I don't think he's a ghoul and he took all the monster stuff okay, it seemed. I mean he didn't run screaming from the room at least. How are you?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know, man. I guess after all these years, I never even entertained the thought of ever seeing them again. It's all been a bit of a shock. I mean, sure I've thought about them on occasion, but never a great deal. We've been busy."

"He really seems to want to work with us on this case."

"I don't like it. He's gonna get himself hurt, or worse." Dean smacked his hand down on the table as he walked by.

"Are you saying that because you're falling back into surrogate father mode, or because you really think he can't handle it? He took you down earlier tonight. He is a cop, after all, and not some green civilian off the street."

"Maybe I am falling back into surrogate father mode, as you put it. I still see him as a kid. You're right though, the kid has chops. Not bad in a fight either. Wonder how well he can shoot?" Dean sighed again, still pacing around the room.

"What am I doing? I should be over there sending him home! This is just what I need, someone else to care about. Someone else to see get dragged into this crazy life. Someone else to see get hurt because of me!"

"Dean, having someone else to care about isn't a bad thing. It generally means they care about you in return. And who says he'll want anything to do with this life once he sees a piece of it? Who says he'll get hurt?"

"When don't they, Sammy..." Dean said quietly and headed for the door. "I need to get some air."

Sam watched him go, knowing he needed to get out of the room. This has always been the way Dean handles stress. He needs to be going, doing. The room of the motel just makes him feel confined both literally and in his head. He has always been a man of action. Even if all that means is he gets out of the room and goes for a walk.

Outside, Dean stopped and just took a deep breath. The night was on the crisp side and the air was refreshing. It's not often that Dean isn't sure of what to do or even of how he feels. He's at a complete loss. He feels both simultaneously thrilled to see Ben all grown up, being a cop, etc and also terrified that he has stepped back into his life. This was why Dean had come up with the memory wipe in the first place, to protect them from him.

With another sigh, Dean walked down toward the office and the vending machines. He slid a couple bucks into the slot and was standing there staring blankly at the contents when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

"The Doritos are looking good." Ben said.

"Yeah? Tip, kid, never eat the cheesy stuff, messes up your fingers if you need to draw your weapon. Also, it's a bear to clean off the ivory grips." Dean punched in some numbers, grabbed the bag of Doritos, and tossed them over his shoulder. He heard Ben catch them and he slid another buck into the machine, this time going for a bag of pretzels.

He turned and studied Ben by the light of the security lamps glowing above their heads. He still had that dark hair, like his mom. He kept it short and neat. He'd lost that chubby kid look to his cheeks and had a bit of a 5 o'clock shadow going. He stood about even with Dean in height and had broad shoulders. His build reminded Dean of his own father. John had had broad shoulders like that. Dean got a bit of it, more than Sammy had, but Ben looked powerful. He carried it more like a tiger or lion though. Sinewy muscle that looked graceful when he moved but ready to strike if called for. Dean found himself wondering how he'd have done against him if they had been allowed to continue at the cemetery. All that strength and raw power isn't going to do you a lick of good, though, without the smarts and experience to go with it. But Ben would gain that over time. Growing up suited him. Dean couldn't hide a smirk.

"What?"

"Well look at you! All growed up!"

"Yeah? Well, shit happens."

Dean chuckled and started walking out toward the walkway that led back to the marina and the lake beyond.

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" Ben asked. Dean thought about it for a second.

"Suit yourself, kid."

They walked in silence for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts. They had come to the railing around the marina and Dean leaned against it, looking out across the lake. It was huge. People really had no concept of their size until they saw one of the Great Lakes. They were pretty impressive. Ben settled against the railing next to him, keeping quiet.

"So, tell me, you continue with the baseball?"

"What? Oh, um, yeah, right through college. We won the state championship my junior year."

Dean nodded his head and they fell into silence again. Dean didn't really do small talk and didn't know what to say.

"How's Lisa? She doing okay?" He hated asking. It still hurt to think of her.

"Yeah. She's kept busy. Never married. I think she's stronger by herself, you know? She always seemed to worry more, about everything, when she was dating anyone. I mean, she still goes out now and then, but nothing serious."

That made Dean cringe. For some reason that felt like it was his fault in some way. Someone else to get hurt because of him.

"Mind if I ask a question?" Ben asked, hesitantly.

Dean remained quiet for a bit. How far did he want to go with Ben? Casual acquaintance was one thing, but he wasn't sure he could handle getting pulled back into the kid's life.

"Knock yourself out, but I don't guarantee an answer."

"Okay. All the murders, in your file..."

"You want to know if I really killed any of those people, right? Curiosity just eating away at you, isn't it?"

"Not so much curiosity, I mean yes, but, I'm just trying to get a read on you, your character. I mean, you did live with my mom for a year. I can't imagine my mother doing that with a serial killer, you know?"

Dean looked down at his feet, crinkled up his empty pretzel bag, tossed it in the trash can nearby and started walking along the marina. Ben kept pace.

"What would it do to you, mean to you, if I told I _did_ kill all those people?"

"Um, I hadn't thought of that. I guess in my mind I refuse to see you or anyone as being that cold. I guess, ...to be honest, ...I don't know."

"Fair enough. I didn't though. St. Louis was a shape shifter that took my form. Cops caught him fleeing the scene looking just like me. Milwaukee was also a shape shifter. Kept jumping from form to form. Took us a while to figure out who it was. Boy that whole thing was a cluster fuck. We barely made it out of that one." Dean shook his head.

"How about the multi-state crime spree that was plastered all over the national news?"

"Yeah, well, that was leviathans. Those dicks. Glad to be rid of them."

"Leviathans? I don't recall Sam mentioning them earlier."

"Biblical, sort of, creatures that escaped out of Purgatory. What a mess. Lost a good man during all of that." There were days when Dean and Sam just ached to be able to talk to Bobby again. He should give Jody a call when this was all over. Maybe get together with her and have a beer for Bobby.

"Listen, kid...Ben, I'd rather not talk about my life. It's a sad, depressing river of shit."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, I'm just done. That's all. Listen, if you want to help on this case, then fine. Get some shuteye, and meet us at our room tomorrow night about seven, okay?" Dean didn't know why he suddenly felt okay with this kid tagging along, but there it was. Dean turned away from him and walked back to his room, not looking back.


	11. Chapter 11

Ben slept fitfully. He always had had trouble sleeping during the day and his nightmares seemed to be worse instead of better. He thought they would have improved after meeting Dean. He was going to chalk it up to the case and monster stories from Sam...Uncle Sam. He grinned. He hadn't thought of him that way and 'Uncle Sam' just sounded hilarious to him.

He was up and going by 10am, having slept for about six hours. He snagged a couple stale donuts and a coffee in the motel office, sent an e-mail to Amber for her to call him when it was convenient, and then went for a jog along the shore of Lake Ontario. Two hours later, sitting on a bench at the marina, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Braeden here."

"Hello, Officer Braeden, this is Amber." She chuckled.

Ben smiled to himself. "Hey girl what's up?"

"You tell me. You're the one sending cryptic e-mails for me to contact you."

"True that. I just don't want you getting into trouble talking to me on company time and all."

"Ahhh, is that it? Well, you're still alive, so can I assume the father hunt is still going okay?"

"Amber, I finally met him."

"Really? And you're still in one piece. This is good. Do tell."

So he told her about his stalking them, which she of course admonished him on right away.

"Yes, yes, and you are right. It was foolish and stupid and I probably owe you a fourth dinner now?"

"Oh heck no! You've graduated to a movie. Dinner and a movie, now, bucko."

Ben couldn't help but smile. He missed her and in doing so, began to think that, maybe in his heart, there was little more room for her than he had previously thought. He then told her how they had caught him and dragged him back to their motel room for an interrogation.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?"

"Calm down! I'm fine! They were just making sure I wasn't a demon or shape shifter or some crazy shit."

"Wait!" she interrupted, "You let someone else ride your Indian?" She was teasing, but also sounded truly stunned as well.

"Well, it's not like I had much of a choice in the matter! At least they didn't leave her there to rot at the cemetery."

"So, the serial killer pops has a heart after all? Man, the guys will never let you go on a stake out now..."

"You breathe a word of this and so help me, your first dinner will be oatmeal."

"Okay, okay! Anything but the dreaded oatmeal treatment! My lips are sealed."

Ben smiled to himself and sighed. "Amber, I wish you could meet him. He is something else. Definitely not what one would consider good father material, that's for sure. But there's something about him. I can't quite put my finger on it. He seems weighed down, by what, I'm not sure. Some of it seems to be a large amount of guilt. But there's something else there. Almost as if he feels responsible for the well being of every person he comes into contact with. But I can see that he's fiercely loyal in just the way he acts around his brother. The way he looks at him, talks to him. Even the way he stands around him. I don't even think he's conscious of it, half the time, either."

"You sound quite taken with him and he sounds quite messed up." She gave a quiet chuckle. "It's a match made in heaven."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Although that car of his is a beauty! I can't tell you everything, at least not on the phone like this, but, he seems to me, like a guy that was thrown into some pretty impossible circumstances and did the best he could. He came out the other side, changed for it, but he's still here, still soldiering on." Ben gave a sigh. "And I know none of that makes any sense to you. I just needed someone to bounce my inner monologue off of."

"Oh joy! He picked me! But seriously, you sound like you've been thinking about this for a while now. Not sleeping well are you?"

"No. Not at all. I keep thinking about him and then looking at myself. Comparing."

"No, you can't do that Ben. He was never there. He has had no influence on your life and who you are."

"I know, but it's hard not to, you know?"

Amber sighed. "Yeah, I guess can understand. So, how is the case? You figure out the deal yet?"

"Amber, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. We haven't figured out the perps yet. Well, I haven't. Sam and Dean seem to think it's ghouls. I know, don't get me started. Dean is 50% bad ass, 20% smart ass, and 30% off his rocker. The fact is, though, whoever is doing it, seems to be going after Dean and Sam specifically. They have been leaving clues that lead right to them, although the local cops are stumped. We're going out tonight, I think, to see if we can catch them in the act."

"I just don't know what to say. Ghouls? Ben, do you even know what a ghoul is? I mean, I don't!"

"I listened to them tell me what they thought ghouls were. But I'll be treating this like any other case, with actual human perpetrators. Let them think what they will, as long as we're all after the same thing."

Amber and I talked for a while more about everything and nothing and then I headed out to grab a bite to eat.

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There was a knock on the door and, as had become habit, both guys pulled their guns. Dean pulled back a corner of the curtain and shook his head. They both put their guns away and Dean opened the door. Ben walked in wearing black cargo pants, a black t-shirt and a black leather biker's jacket. Sam grinned and Dean smirked.

"Before either of you say anything, this is my normal attire. The pants are comfortable and I don't dress up that often. My wardrobe is mostly t-shirts."

Sam put his hands up as if to say woah, back off, didn't mean anything and continued grinning. Dean just snorted.

"So, Ben, Sam and I have been discussing what route to take next..."

"There are two plans to follow. One would be to go to the cemetery and lie in wait, hoping to catch them in the act." Sam said.

"And if it **is** us they're after, just our presence in the cemetery should lure them right in." Dean continued.

"The second plan would be to check out the abandoned buildings and houses in and around town. Since the ghouls, and I think we have to assume it's plural for as many bodies that have been taken, are on the move, they'll need someplace to hole up." Sam continued.

"If we find their hidey hole, we've found the whole kit and kaboodle. So, Ben, any thoughts?" Dean looked right at him, weighing him.

"Huh. Two great ideas. I think, since you have me along, we do both. Killing two birds with one stone. Also, if something goes south with one plan, we still have a man on the outside, as it were. We send one man to check abandoned buildings. They keep their distance and if they find anything suspicious, they phone the other two who will be at the cemetery."

Dean raised an eyebrow, nodded his head and looked at Sam. Sam nodded back.

"Pretty good, kid. That's actually exactly what we were thinking of doing. Sam here has a map he's been working on this afternoon." Dean motioned over to the little table. On it was a rough map of the town and surrounding countryside. There were red 'x's scattered around on it.

"I'll start with the places closest to the cemetery and if I have no luck with them, I'll head on to the ones furthest from town and work my way in." Sam pointed to various locations on the map as he spoke.

Dean grabbed Ben's jacket and dragged him over to the bed and shoved him down to it. "You and I are going to the cemetery. Let me see your weapon." He sat on the bed opposite Ben.

Ben pulled out his 9mm Glock. Most of the guys on the force used them. He handed it to Dean.

"Decent. How's your aim?" Dean looked the gun over and handed it back.

"Second best in the department."

"Have you ever used it in the field? Have you ever actually aimed at someone and pulled the trigger? You do remember ghouls can only be taken out with a head shot, right? That calls for a bit more than shooting out someone's knee."

Ben looked down at his gun. "No. But don't think for a moment that means I'll freeze if the shit hits the fan."

"Uh-huh. Everybody's different, kid. You'll never know which kind you are until you're faced with it. I guess we'll see."

Sam walked over. "I'm just about ready to go, uh, Ben..."

Ben looked up at Sam who was holding out his hand. "What?" He looked at Dean who was smirking again and back to Sam.

"He needs the keys to your bike, dude."

Ben just sat there.

"Listen if you two are headed to the cemetery, you'll need the car. Your bike is the only ride left for me to use." Sam made a give me motion with his hand.

Ben sighed, stood up, and fished out his keys from his pocket. He squeezed them in his hand for a second before handing them over.

"Listen, Ben, Dean has a, um, pretty intense relationship with his car, too. Don't worry, I'll take of your baby for you." Sam patted Ben on his shoulder and grabbed his coat.

"You two take care of yourselves and stay in contact."

"Hey, Sam." Ben stepped over to him and handed him a piece of paper. "Listen, if anything does go bad, this is the number of a friend of mine. She's the only one who knows I'm out here and what I'm up to."

Sam took the paper, nodded at Ben, and stuck it in his pocket.

"Later." Dean called out as Sam left. Sam just raised his arm as he went out the door.

"So, how did you guys decide who was doing what?" Ben asked.

"Timed honored tradition of rock, paper, scissors." Dean got up and said, "Let's go!"


	12. Chapter 12

They didn't have far to drive to get to the cemetery. Dean went back to the caretaker's entrance that Ben had used with his bike the night before. There was a shed near the back corner of the grounds near where the four graves had already been hit. It had a hedge row around it to hide it from the view of visitors. Dean chose there to hole up and wait. He had the shed to their backs and the hedge to hide behind in front of them.

"Listen, I know you're a cop and have had training and what not, but out here you listen to me. Consider me your commanding officer. Got it?" Dean was talking quietly, not raising his voice. Ben nodded. "I say down; you get down. I say jump; you say how high. I don't want any hesitation from you. I say it, you do it. My aim is to keep you alive. Understood?"

"Got it, boss."

"Okay. I want you here." He gestured to the east side of the hedge row. "You keep your eyes out there. Anything moves, you let me know. I'll take the south side, here. Keep your gun drawn and ready."

Ben went over to the hedges, found a good spot with a gap in the branches that he could peek through and settled in. Dean shifted over a bit, pulled his gun and waited. Two hours later his phone vibrated in his pocket. He flipped it open, saw Sam's name and answered.

"Yeah?" He whispered.

"Dean, I've had no luck with the first three houses. I have three more and then, if I don't find anything, I'll head to the places outside town. I'll call you before heading in. Any luck on your end?"

Dean looked over at Ben who was, surprisingly, still quite alert. "Nothing. Quiet as a tomb."

"Funny. Okay, I'll check in later."

Ben looked over briefly and Dean just shook his head 'no', and they went back to scanning the cemetery. About another two hours later they heard what sounded like stone shattering, coming from about the southeast. Dean caught Ben's eye, put his finger to his lips and motioned for him to follow.

They made their way around the corner of the hedge row and in a crouching jog, ran over to a mausoleum. Dean held up his hand to signal a stop and he listened. He could hear the sounds of something going on further ahead. There were a couple tall monuments up ahead to either side. He motioned to the one on the left to Ben, who nodded, and to the other and himself. They each quickly made it to their respective monuments and Dean held up his hand again.

The sounds seemed to be coming from an open grave about fifteen feet ahead. There was no cover anywhere around it. This was as close as they were going to get without being seen. There was a mausoleum down to the right, but it was just as far away as the monuments they were at now. Dean signaled for Ben to stay put and crouched as low as he could get and made his way over to the grave, gun at the ready.

With the noise that was coming from the grave, Dean thought he should have seen some kind of movement by now. He was about five feet away and still nothing. Something was fishy about this. Dean rushed the last few feet to the grave's edge and found nothing. He signaled Ben over.

"Cover me." and he hopped down into the grave.

He could still hear the sounds and they were quite loud, now that he was on top of them. Not wanting to turn on a flashlight and ruin his night vision, he brushed the dirt around with his foot until he kicked what he thought was a small box. He crouched down and pulled out, from under a thin layer of dirt, what appeared to be an old tape recorder. His stomach dropped out as he hit stop. It was a trap and like a fool he'd rushed right into it. He turned to tell Ben to get back to the car and found him laying on the ground. He raised his gun again and inched closer. He could see a dart in Ben's neck. He had to get out of this hole or it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Problem was, as soon as he raised his head above the lip of the hole, he made a target of himself as well. He found himself with his gun raised and circling inside the hole, trying to cover 360 degrees.

Okay, he had to do something. Since it was a dart, Dean assumed it was a tranquilizer and not deadly. It was in the right side of Ben's neck and Ben had been standing with his back to the hole. So, going on the assumption that the enemy was to the right as he looked at Ben, Dean grabbed Ben's shoulders and tried getting out of the hole while holding Ben between himself and the enemy. It sounded cold, but another dart wouldn't kill Ben...he didn't think. He couldn't just sit here either.

He made it out of the hole. Now the trick was to make it to the car while carrying Ben, holding him between himself and the ghouls. He didn't understand the use of tranquilizer darts, but didn't have the time to worry about it now.

He got himself standing, with Ben in front of him. Unfortunately, Ben was a big guy and Dean had to tuck his gun away in order to carry him. He took about three steps and his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. _Not now, Sammy._ Then he felt a sting in the back of his right thigh. Holding Ben with one arm, he reached back and felt a dart in his leg. He tried to keep going and felt another one hit his ass. _Sonofabitch!_

He set Ben down and drew his gun. He started to circle around, but the world started circling faster. He squeezed off a shot in case any cops were on watch tonight and then hit the ground.

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"Come on Dean. Pick up the phone." Sam had had no luck at any of the abandoned homes in the surrounding area of the cemetery and was headed toward the outskirts of town. He was a good ten minutes away, but if Dean didn't pick up, he'd turn around and head to the cemetery.

"Hey, this is me, you know what to do..."

"Damn it." Sam hung up and turned the bike around. He pulled up to the cemetery's back entrance ten long minutes later and saw the Impala still sitting there. He drew his gun and a flashlight and started walking, scanning everything he could as he went. He got to the shed that Dean had mentioned earlier, but nobody was there. He tried Dean's cell again and could hear it ringing out in the cemetery somewhere. He took off at a run.

He finally found the phone. It was in a pile of stuff. Ben's cell, his gun, and miscellaneous pocket detritus. Also in the pile was Dean's cell, his guns, the knife he kept in the ankle strap, his keys and his wallet. Looking through the pile again, Sam didn't see Ben's wallet. He scanned the ground nearby, but didn't find it.

"Damn it, Dean." Sam gathered up the stuff from the ground, stuffing it into various pockets and headed back to the bike. He put the stuff into the saddle bags Ben had on the bike and made a quick jog to the Impala. He pulled out some fake FBI tags and put them on the dash. That should keep the car from getting towed any time soon. He made sure it was locked up tight and then ransacked the trunk for some gear. He filled a backpack, threw it on, and headed back to the bike.

Pulling out his flashlight, he again studied his map. There were four abandoned factory-type properties around the outskirts of town. None looked any better than the others, so Sam chose the closest one. He had no other idea of how to locate Dean and Ben other than to keep going with his search. Tucking the map and flashlight away, Sam took off, feeling more urgency than ever. He knew Dean would heap the guilt on himself over this. He had to find them.

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When Dean came to, he had no idea how much time had passed. He tried to look around but couldn't move his head. He was laying on his back on what felt like a wooden table. He had been stripped down to his boxer briefs and hoped that at least someone had a good time, since he didn't remember any of it. He was bound in some way to the table at his ankles; there was another strap across his forehead, holding it in place. With his head strapped down, what he could see was severely limited. His arms were raised and strapped down as well. From what he could see of the room, which wasn't much, he was guessing he was in one of the abandoned factories. Specifically, based on the hooks he could see hanging from the ceiling, the old meat processing plant.

"Dean. Are you awake?"

"Ben?"

"Yeah. I'm tied to a chair off to your left."

"Tied how?"

"My ankles to the legs and my forearms to the arms of the chair. My shirt is gone and so are my boots."

"The boots are to make it harder if you escape. You don't move as fast in bare feet. What can you see of the room?"

"Well, it looks like an old meat locker as you can probably tell with the hooks above you. Concrete floors and walls. A soothing mint green paint pealing off the walls. Fluorescent lights throughout but the only ones on are the few over us. Can't make out too much of the room back behind you but there is a door over in the corner, your upper right, I suppose it would be. I can see lighted windows in it."

"You are strapped down to a table about three feet high. The straps go right through slots in the table to buckle or whatever below the tabletop. I can't see underneath, so I'm not sure how they are fastened. They look pretty tight."

"Thanks Einstein. They are pretty tight. Can you see anything else?"

"Uh, it looks like there might be some sort of cart or table down near your right leg, but I can't really see it. There's just a shadow on the floor."

"Are you hurt?" Dean asked.

"Other than some chafing from the ropes? No. You?"

"Just my pride." This wasn't looking good for him. It was nothing new. Dean spent 3 months in Hell getting tortured by the best. Doesn't mean he's looking forward to it. He didn't want Ben getting hurt. Isn't this why he did the memory wipe in the first place? So they wouldn't get hurt because of him? Damn it!

"Listen, Ben. I'm sorry I got you into this. I should have sent you home."

"Don't Dean. I poked myself into your lives. No blame is on you. I didn't have to come out here looking for you and I didn't have to go with you tonight."

"Well, still, this whole mess is my fault. I doubt they prepare you for torture in sheriff boot camp or whatever it is you go through. Just do me a favor. If they ask you something, just answer them. Don't make them beat it out of you. Otherwise, no matter what happens, stay quiet. Maybe they'll leave you alone." He sighed.

"And you have had training in torture?"

"Actually, yes." Dean sounded defeated.

"Seriously? You've been tortured?"

"Both." He didn't fancy telling Ben this, but if they were going to die here, he wasn't going to go out a liar.

"Both? Both what? What do you mean?"

"Been tortured and have tortured. We'll leave it at that. If we get out of this, by some miracle, maybe I'll tell you."

"Hell." Ben muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Garth said you had been to Hell. I can't imagine it was a picnic."

Dean remained silent. He wasn't going to go there right now. Ben didn't need to hear this right now and he didn't want to. He needed to prepare himself mentally for whatever was coming. He also lifted a small prayer for Sammy to get his ass here on the double.

Just then the door in the corner opened and someone approached. Coming into view was a guy about twenty eight years old, give or take. He looked corporate. Neat, light brown hair with the part along the side, dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a red tie. All of that was covered by an apron. Guess he didn't want to get any blood on himself.

"Well, if it isn't Dean Winchester! THE Dean Winchester in the flesh!" He leaned over Dean's chest and took a deep breath through his nose. "And that flesh smells SO good!"

Dean's skin crawled. "You have me at a disadvantage..."

"You can call me Eric. That's the name of my current form. I have no true name."

He walked around the table at my feet. I could just make out a blurry blob down to my left, which I assumed was Ben.

"And you. You are NOT Sam Winchester. Pity. According to your wallet, you are one Benjamin Braeden from Michigan. Long way from home, aren't you boy." He didn't say it as a question and Ben stayed silent. "Don't worry, I'll have your full story soon enough."

Eric continued his walk around the table, running his finger lightly along Dean's ribs and up his arm as he went. "I have waited so very long for this moment, Dean." He ran his finger across Dean's forehead as he passed, sending chills down his spine. Eric continued like that until he got to the cart Ben had mentioned. When he turned back around and into view, he was holding a knife.

"Let's get acquainted, shall we?"


	13. Chapter 13

Eric, as he called himself, started talking and as he did, he walked slowly around the table, circling his prize. As he went he used the knife to cut Dean. Nothing that looked deep or life threatening, but just lots of them, all over as he walked. Dean, for his part just clenched his teeth and never made a sound.

"Dean Winchester." _cut_ Eric started. "The mighty hunter. Did you know that you're the second oldest, active hunter in the states?" _cut _"That's pretty impressive, I must say." _cut _"What **is** your secret?" _cut _

"Whiskey, frisky women, and fast cars." Dean answered. _Cut _

"Oh! Listen to that sass!" _cut _"You're certainly living up to your reputation so far." _cut _

"And what is my reputation?" _cut _

_"_Well, you are the only one I've heard of to go to Hell and back." _cut _"And you spent a whole year in purgatory," _cut _"with my fallen brothers, sisters, and children." _cut _"I hear tell that you've even been to Heaven." _cut _"Tell me, what's it like?" _cut _

"Oh, it's all sunshine and lollipops." _cut _

Eric chuckled to himself. "All of which has made you into quite the fighting machine, Dean." _cut _

At this point Eric was at Dean's head and he made a cut just under Dean's jaw bone. When he moved on and I saw the blood at Dean's neck, the room started spinning. ...Suddenly I was a kid again and there were strange men in the house. One of them grabbed mom's boyfriend and twisted his neck, killing him... And just like that, I was back with Eric and Dean again. I felt dizzy and nauseous. I shook my head, trying to clear it. What just happened?

Eric continued. "You've racked up quite an impressive body count." _cut _

"You've sent untold numbers of spirits to rest." _cut _

"You've cleared out dozens of vampire nests." _cut _

"You've bagged a wendigo, a rugaru, and even a dragon!" _cut _

"You've taken out werewolves," _cut _"witches," _cut _"and a Native American curse!" _cut _

"You've even taken on some legends!" _cut _"A ghost ship," _cut _"The Hook Man," _cut _"and even Bloody Mary herself." _cut _

Dean sighed. "This has been a great trip down memory lane, but can we get on with whatever this is?"

Eric slapped him. The sound of it, like a crack, echoed through the room.

_Cut _"Shush, now. I'm still talking." _cut _

"You've even taken out a few ghouls." _cut _"You know, your father killed one of my sons?" _cut _"Then you, and your brother, killed his children?" _cut _"This is for my son..." With that, Eric leaned over Dean and made a large gash across the top of his chest. Dean hissed out a breath and I could see the tendons popping out on his neck. He clenched his hands into fists.

"This is for my granddaughter..." and below the first, Eric made another large gash. Dean was breathing a little faster now, still hissing his breath through his clenched teeth. He continued to pull at the restraints. His knees flexed a bit with his efforts.

"And this is for my grandson, I think you knew him. His name was Adam when he died." Eric then made a gash across Dean's stomach. It didn't look deep enough to hit the soft organs below, but painful none the less. Dean grunted but still held on.

"So, you're their sire or what?" Dean managed to say between breaths.

Eric didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down and licked some of the blood off Dean's chest. Dean grimaced and looked like he was going to be sick. I didn't blame him. When Eric stood back up, with blood on his mouth and chin, the room swam... and again I was back to being a kid. My hands were bound behind my back and I was shoved into the back of a van with my mom. The men who had us had eyes as black as night. We drove for what seemed hours and then I was thrown over some brute's shoulder and carried into an old abandoned building...

My head bobbed like a child who's falling asleep in the car. What was going on? Have I been drugged? Whatever it was, Eric seemed unaware of it.

"You are a fine vintage Dean." Eric smacked his lips and had another lick. I thought I was going to be sick as well. "Your blood tastes of the open road, vigorous and powerful. A ghoul could get used to this. You know we don't get fresh meat that often. This is why I don't understand why you hunters continue to slaughter my children. We feed on the already dead. We harm no one." Eric started to pace back and forth on the far side of the table from me.

"You're monsters. And some of you have fed off the living. Your grandkids for starters." Dean answered him.

"I have lost thirty-six children in the last month, alone! Not a one of them ever fed on the living! You hunters kill indiscriminately! Whatever strikes your fancy! Even you must eat to survive! You hunted down my brothers and sisters, tortured them, and killed them, just to get information they DID NOT KNOW!" Eric was screaming now, spittle flying from his mouth. He suddenly stopped pacing and turned back toward Dean.

"I need a drink. How about you?" The sudden change in pace caught me off guard.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah. I could go for a brew. We could sit and reminisce about the good old days."

Eric chuckled. "Still a smart ass."

Eric bent down, over near the cart, and stood back up holding a bottle of water. He opened it and had a sip. Tipping it towards Dean, he said, "Want some? You must be parched."

"No. I'm good, thanks."

"No. I don't think you are."

Eric stepped over and tried to dribble some water into Dean's mouth, but he just pressed his lips together, letting the water trickle down his chin and the sides of his face. "Huh. You can lead a horse to water..." Eric reached up with his other hand and squeezed Dean's nose shut. Oh God.

He started pouring the water on Dean's closed mouth again. Dean started struggling against the restraints again. The tendons, once again, popping out on his neck. Eventually his need for air won out and he opened his mouth and gasped for air and instead got a mouthful of water. Eric kept pouring and Dean continued to struggle. He was coughing and gasping and choking. His hands clenched and unclenched. His whole body was bucking on the table.

"Stop!" I shouted. I couldn't remain silent anymore, no matter what Dean had told me.

Eric stopped and looked over at me. Dean gasped a lungful of air and immediately started hacking and coughing. As Dean struggled to regain his breathing amongst the coughing, Eric set down the bottle and walked around the table toward me.

"Benjamin Braeden. You have a problem? This man has been tried and found guilty of crimes against myself, my brothers and sisters, and our children. He will be punished for his crimes."

He leaned down and looked intently at me. He leaned in to my neck and inhaled a deep breath. He stepped back a bit and with his face not inches from mine asked, "Who are you?" He stood, leaned across Dean and retrieved his knife. He wiped it's blade clean on my pants and then sliced my shoulder with it. I gasped at the suddenness of it. He then leaned in and sucked at the blood that came to the surface of the wound. I grimaced and chills ran down my spine. He stood up, smacking his lips again.

"Oh. This is too good! This day can't get much better! Once we acquire Sam, it will be perfect!"

From the table, Dean said, "You're an alpha." Dean said it almost in awe. I didn't know what he was talking about. Sam didn't mention alphas in our little monsters 101. Eric turned back to Dean.

"I'm not 'an alpha', I'm THE alpha. Father to all ghoul-kind. As an alpha, I was hunted by you and others. You hunted us, tortured us and killed us!"

"Hey, I didn't torture anyone." Dean coughed out.

Eric flew into a rage. Screaming, "DON'T LIE TO ME!" He took the knife that was in his hand and slammed it down into Dean's thigh to the hilt. Dean let out an unearthly scream. "YOU KILLED THE MOTHER OF ALL!" Eric screamed and the room tilted again.

...Kid-me was being held with a knife to my throat by my own mother, but, it wasn't my mom at the same time. Her eyes had turned black as well. She was talking to Dean who was slowly making his way toward us. He threw something in her face, I got pulled out of the way and the two of them were fighting. Dean started saying something in some other language and the not-mom was freaking out. Suddenly she had a box cutter in her hand and was stabbing herself in the gut...

My head bobbed again and when I looked up, Eric was leaving the room.

"Dean, oh God, are you going to make it? Are you okay? Stay with me, man."

After a coughing jag and some groaning, Dean muttered, "Yeah, kid. I'll be fine."

We were silent for a bit and then I ventured, "Dean, was I ever held captive as a kid?"

"Huh? Where'd that come from?"

"Uh, well, off and on, through out all of, um, this...I've been having, I guess you'd call them flashbacks? I don't know, the room would suddenly start spinning and then it was like I was somewhere else. I saw men come in the house, kill my mom's boyfriend, we were thrown into a van and taken somewhere by guys with black eyes. And in the last one, my own mother was holding a knife on me and eventually stabbed herself in the stomach. What's going on?"

Dean was quiet for a moment. "I'd say the last of the memory wipe is fading. Instead of odd dreams, you're having waking flashbacks. A demon, named Crowley, was holding you two hostage to keep me and Sam from stopping something he was up to. A demon jumped your mom. It's the whole reason I had your memories wiped in the first place. I couldn't keep seeing the people I care about getting hurt because they knew me."

"Dean, that wasn't your choice to make."

"Story of my life, kid."

"I mean, bad things happen all the time to people. There are car wrecks, kids are born with all kinds of disabilities, loved ones get cancer. You can't defeat bad luck, Dean. Taking yourself out of our lives in such a fashion wasn't right, wasn't your choice to make, wasn't fair!" I was getting a little heated. I didn't mean to, but now that I'd finally met my father, I had grown to respect him a great deal in such a short time. I was letting childish emotions get the best of me and he didn't deserve it. Not now.

"Not fair?" Dean asked, coughing some more from the choking.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure you did what you thought was best at the time. Don't talk, it's just making you cough again."

"Ben, by doing what I did, you and Lisa have lived a relatively normal life. Free from ghouls, demons, and the like. I was just trying to protect you and yet, here you are anyway."

I chuckled. "Like a bad rash, I suppose, I just won't go away."

Dean was quiet for a bit and when I looked up, he had dozed off, or passed out. His body had had enough, apparently. I dozed in and out too. Every little sound bringing me around.

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Sam had spent the rest of the night and into the morning searching the first two abandoned properties on his map. The first one was an old laundry or something. It wasn't that big, but it had lot's of rooms. They always slow you down, because you just can't walk into a room. There's always the possibility of something not so good waiting on the other side. So, going through doorways, whether the doors are closed or not, always slowed a search down.

The second property was a small marina, or something, right on the water. This one wasn't as big as the first place, but it had lots of individual boat houses and such, that all required the same slow care that the laundry with it's rooms took. By the time Sam was done, he was dragging on his feet. He had to get some rest, as much as it killed him to stop the search. If he did manage to find them, in this state, he'd only get himself caught, or worse, because he wasn't alert.

He decided to head back to the motel and grab three or four hours of sleep. Just enough to recharge the batteries. Then he would grab his gear, something to eat from the vending machine, and head out to the old meat processing plant that was next on the list. The place was huge and he dreaded the amount of time it would take to search it. Maybe he would get lucky, though, and find them straight away.


	14. Chapter 14

Thinking I'd heard something, I roused myself from my dozing in time to see Eric at the table, raising a bucket.

"No time for sleeping!" He yells, and dumps the bucket, containing ice water, all over Dean. Dean gasped awake, jerking against all the restraints, grimacing at the pain I'm sure that movement caused. "We have much more to discuss!" He wandered past the cart, picking up a short thin leather strap as he passed. What new torture did he have in mind for Dean now? Where was Sam?

Eric stopped at the foot of the table. "You know, Dean, I've talked so much about my family, and their indiscriminate slaughter, that we've spent no time talking about yours. You are quite loyal to your family aren't you? Well, what family you have left."

He walked around toward me and fiddled with the strap in his hand. "You wouldn't want any of your family to get hurt, would you, Dean?" He looked at me with a knowing glance. He was up to something. He continued on past me.

"Poor Dean, here, lost his mommy at the young age of four. Demon burned her on the ceiling of little Sammy's nursery. Did you know that, Benjamin? He lost his father to a demon about 20 years later, give or take. Demon's have been plaguing Sam almost since the day he was born." He leaned over Dean, who was beginning to shiver.

"I wonder, then, how you could ever have worked in league with them at all! Yet, all evidence shows that the two of you have done so on numerous occasions! How is it, that the mighty hunter turns a blind eye to some and yet slaughters so many others for lesser offenses?"

Dean's teeth were beginning to chatter and his whole body was shivering as much as the restraints would allow. He managed a reply, though. "You forgot about Adam, my half-brother, that your bastard offspring killed."

Eric looked directly at me and said, "Oh, Adam isn't the only one I haven't mentioned."

He walked back around toward me and stood between Dean and I. "You seem to be overly protective of your younger brother, Dean. Is it because you think he's all the family you have left? It's a rather unhealthy relationship the two of you have."

"He **is** the only family I have left." Dean chattered.

"Really? I so wanted to have Sam here to witness your punishment. Physical torture for you, psychological scars for him...but we'll settle for Ben here. So who's Lisa?"

Shit. How does this freak know about my mother? Where's he going with this?

"Lisa who?"

"Hmm. Dean, have you ever heard of bastinado?" Eric went again to the foot of the table.

"What you do with goats in your spare time is your own business." Dean replied.

Eric laughed, stood off to the side and hit the sole of Dean's right foot with the leather strap. At first, Dean did his stoic, non responsive, thing. But Eric just kept hitting his foot and the lines on Dean's face got deeper. He started to grimace more and more with each hit.

"Bastinado, simply, is foot whipping." Eric spoke as he continued to hit Dean's foot. "There is a lovely bundle of nerves down here in your foot and with each hit the pain grows more intense. Soon it'll start burning right up through your whole body. What's nice, is, it takes very little effort from me."

Dean was starting to grunt and gasp with each hit. He started struggling against his bonds. Occasionally, he would arch his back in pain. Tears were coming, unbidden, from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, toward his ears.

Eric stopped. "Who's Lisa, Dean? ...No answer? The anticipation of the next strike is almost as bad as the strike itself, don't you think?" Eric hit Dean's foot and he cried out.

"Who's Lisa, Dean? It's a simple question."

"Just a girl I had a fling with decades ago. She doesn't even remember who I am!"

Between the ice cubes, that were finally beginning to melt off, and the whipping, Dean was a mess. Eric struck again, again Dean cried out, back arching in pain.

"Would you feel bad if something happened to her? Even if she doesn't even remember who you are?" Again striking his foot.

No answer. Another whip of the foot.

"Would you feel bad?" Strike.

Dean was panting, "Yes, damn it!"

"Why?" No answer from Dean, another strike to his foot.

"Because I still care, you son of a bitch!"

"Now, was that so hard?"

Strike. Scream.

"So how would you feel if, say, something were to happen to her son?"

Strike. Scream.

"Touch him and I swear to God, they'll be picking your brain matter off these walls with tweezers!"

"Ever the fighter, aren't you, Dean? It makes this so much more satisfying."

Strike. Scream.

I could barely take it anymore when Eric suddenly came around toward me and back handed me across the face. My head whipped around, wrenching my neck in the process. For such a trim guy, he had a powerful hit.

"You son of bitch! Don't you touch him!" Dean yelled.

Eric back handed me again and already I was seeing spots. I could taste blood in my mouth and he had split my lip. I shook my head, trying to clear it. And again, he hit me. I tried to wrestle free of my bonds, but that wasn't happening. I was beginning to see double. This guy hit like a ton of bricks! Dean was freaking out. Yelling incoherently and struggling against the restraints again. Eric walked back and struck Dean's foot again, eliciting another scream.

"My goodness, Dean. All this over a kid who you spent only a year with?"

Strike. Scream.

"I can't imagine how you would react if I were to, say, beat your son..."

There it was. The sentence just hung there. Aside from Dean's panting, there wasn't a sound in the room.

Finally Dean spoke. "I don't have a son, but nice try."

"Really?"

Strike. Scream.

"Well, then, I'm really curious to see how you would react when I actually do beat your son. So...let me beat him and see?"

He came back over and full on punched me with one mother of a right hook. I thought Dean had a nasty punch. If I weren't tied to the chair, I think he would have knocked me right out of it. He followed it with a punch to my gut. The air wooshed out of me and I doubled over, gagging, trying to breath. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head up.

"No...no, no..." Dean was shocked and the disbelief was evident in his voice.

"What's that Dean? I didn't hear you. Could you hear your old man, Ben? I don't think your son heard you, Dean. Speak up!"

He went over and struck Dean's foot again. Dean's scream hadn't even faded from the room and he was hitting me in the face again.

"This is priceless! You didn't even know, did you, Dean?" He punched me in the face again. I could already feel my left eye swelling shut. It burned from the blood and sweat getting into it.

"You're lying just to get into my head. How do you know this?" Dean asked.

"Oh, Ben, one shouldn't keep secrets. But, maybe that just runs in the family!" He laughed like he had gone round the bend, bat shit crazy. He hit me several more times and then turned to Dean.

"That's what brought Ben out here, you fool! I did some research of my own, while you were in here napping. I don't know what story he fed you, but he found you via DNA match. Congratulations! You're a father!" He had a huge shit eating grin on his face and looked at Dean, to me, and back again. I have no idea how he found all of this out and I hoped Amber was okay.

"Ben, tell him." Eric said.

When I remained silent, he hit me again.

"Ben?" Dean asked.

"Yes! Okay? It's true." This was so not the way I wanted him to learn the truth.

Eric sighed with satisfaction. "You know what would make this so much more psychologically traumatic for young Ben here?" He went around to the cart and grabbed a knife. He then went to one of the gashes he had cut into Dean's chest and cut a chunk of skin off. Dean screamed. He was all out of bravado, I think. Eric dangled the piece of flesh he had just removed above his mouth. "Down the hatch!" He chewed it and ooo'd and ahhh'd as if he were eating the finest steak. I almost tossed my cookies, right there.

"Don't you dare, you son of a bitch." Dean was yanking at his restraints again. He had done so to the point that I could see blood around his wrist and ankle.

Eric smiled at me across the table and the air rippled around him. I don't know how else to explain it. When it was done, he looked just like Dean.

"How'd you do that?" I asked, appalled and fascinated all at the same time.

Dean answered. "Ghouls can take on the form and memories of their last meal. I'm guessing, since he's an alpha, he doesn't need to eat much to accomplish the same feat."

"Oh, Dean. What a dark, dark place, your mind is. Full of self-loathing and guilt. How do you make it through the day without putting a bullet through your head? Oh … right, Sammy. Ah! And now Ben. How touching..."

He went down and struck Dean's foot a few more times, bringing fresh tears and screams from him.

"So, Ben, you've been a bad boy and now papa's gotta give you a whoopin'."

He was enjoying this entirely too much. It was uncanny how he even sounded exactly like Dean.

"Don't you touch him!"

"Oh, I won't! But you will..." And he laid into me again. My left ear was ringing. I couldn't even see out of my left eye anymore. He rained down punches to my body as well.

"Kill me!" Dean suddenly cried out.

Eric stopped and looked over. "What's this?"

"Kill me. It's why you went after me in the first place, isn't it? Well let's get it over with already. Enough with the dicking around!"

"Oh, always the sacrificial one, eh? But you use the term 'sacrifice' to justify your own selfishness. If I were to kill you now, you wouldn't have to watch me beat your son to within an inch of his life. That's awfully selfish, Dean. Awfully, awfully selfish."

Eric went down and began striking Dean's foot again. I thought I might just go mad, listening to him screaming.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam parked Ben's motorcycle in the parking lot of a strip mall two blocks from the abandoned meat packing factory. It would be safe there and Sam wouldn't be quite so noticeable if he walked in.

The first couple buildings he checked were empty. There were, sadly three more to check. He was beginning to lose hope. He worried not only for Dean, but Ben as well. Sam felt it might do Dean some good to hang out with the kid for a while; have someone other than himself to talk to. It would be awful if something happened to Ben; not so soon after being reunited with Dean. Sam really didn't want to have to call the number on the piece of paper Ben had given him. First thing's first. He needed to finish his search.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost missed the door falling shut two buildings down as he rounded the corner of the one he'd just left. Sam quickly ducked back against the building, scoping out the roadway. He didn't see anyone, so he assumed someone had just gone in. He looked at the building itself. It was a huge, pea-soup green colored, metal building. That is, where the paint hadn't already peeled off. There were very few windows, which was good for him. Fewer chances of someone looking out and spotting him. He decided to circle around it to check it out.

After walking around the whole place, the only other way in he could find were some large garage doors that wouldn't budge. There was a regular door next to them but it only opened from the inside. So back to entering through the front. They had planned their hiding spot well.

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I felt like unconsciousness was just around the corner. My head had taken such a beating I probably wouldn't recognize myself in a mirror. Dean also looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness.

"You look tired Dean. Let me thank you for such a great day..."

What was he up to? Dean and I both knew, I think, that Eric had no intentions of either of us walking out of here alive. He removed the strap that held Dean's left leg; the one with the knife jammed into the thigh. It wasn't like Dean would be voluntarily moving that leg any time soon with that knife in there.

He came to the head of the table and, after reaching under for a minute, removed the strap restraining Dean's head. Dean almost immediately rolled his neck and turned his head from side to side. Was he going to release him?

"I thought you'd like to actually **see** your son." He grabbed Dean by his hair and yanked his head up and around, forcing horrible strain on his shoulders. "There he is! He's as handsome as you! Well, under all that gore he probably is." Dean looked at me and the defeat showing on his face was overwhelming.

He dropped Dean's head, unexpectedly, and it made a hollow thunk on the wood of the table. Dean just lay there and said, "I'm sorry, Ben. I'm so sorry."

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Sam wished he had Dean with him. He had no idea how many ghouls he was dealing with and hated the idea of going in there solo. Walking through that door could be walking into a death trap. This meant he'd have to use diversionary tactics to try to pick them off one at a time. Sam had grabbed Dean's sniper rifle from the trunk of the Impala earlier and thought it would come in handy now.

He made his way to the roof of the building across from the door he'd seen closing. He pulled the rifle case from his backpack, put it together, lined up his sights on the door and waited.

About ten minutes later, a man came out, took a look around, hung out there for a bit and then went back in. He must be making rounds between the entry points of the building. Sam thought for sure these were the ghouls he had been searching for but couldn't bring himself to shoot based on an assumption. He watched the same man come out about fifteen minutes later and again didn't shoot. His stomach churned with his conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he knew Dean and Ben were in serious trouble and he needed to get to them. On the other hand, he couldn't just take out a guy with a head shot without knowing for sure.

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"Dean, you can't go to sleep, yet, we aren't done here." Eric dumped another bucket of ice water on Dean. I must have lost consciousness at some point, because I had no idea where the bucket had come from. Dean jerked awake again, crying out in pain as his left leg lifted from the table, aggravating the knife wound.

"You either, Ben, I need you guys awake." He gave me the gatorade treatment and dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I gasped at the cold. Cold so intense it was painful. Ice cubes were trapped between my back and the solid back of the chair I was in, burning against the bare skin. I almost immediately started shivering and it was painful. After the beating he had given me, chattering my teeth hurt, but it hurt just as much, or more, to clench my jaw shut too.

Eric slapped my face a few times. "Stay with me Ben, your pain is making Dean's suffering so much more exquisite."

"Fuck you." I managed to get out of my teeth-chattering, swollen face.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Dean, you hear the mouth on your boy? Pretty poor parenting, there, big guy." He slapped my face again, apparently just for good measure, and went back to the cart.

He grabbed another bottle of water. "Seeing all of this ice water has made me thirsty. Dean care for another drink?"

Dean didn't even answer. Shivering uncontrollably, he might be going into shock.

Eric didn't seem to notice or, rather, didn't care. He came over, and covered Dean's whole face with his hand to keep him from moving and plugged his nose with one of his fingers. He started pouring the water and Dean tried to actually drink it this time, but wasn't able to keep up and soon enough he started to choke and thrash within the restraints. Just when I thought he'd taken it too far, he stopped.

I seriously don't know how much more Dean could take. He's coughing, gagging, gasping, shivering. His eyes rolled up into his head every now and then. He's liable to pass out for good.

Eric starts to hum to himself. I truly believe he's crazy. I mean what kind of messed up do you have to be to derive any type of pleasure out of this? How long has the thought of revenge been eating away at him to make him like this?

He starts whipping Dean's foot again and at first there's barely any response from Dean, but the longer he goes the more reaction he gets. Soon Dean is screaming again. Oh God, make it stop...

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Any doubts Sam had, disappeared ten minutes later when the man reappeared. He held the door open with his foot while he looked around and Sam could hear screaming coming from inside. That was all he needed. He took the shot and dropped him. He waited a minute or two, before leaving the roof, to make sure the shot didn't bring anyone else. When nothing happened, he packed up the rifle. He got out his gun and made sure he had his knife handy, then headed down.

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Part way through a lash, Eric suddenly collapsed down over Dean's legs, grabbing his head. He stayed there for a moment and when he stood up again, he had a bit of a frantic look on his face. He dropped the leather strap and went over to Dean's chest. He grabbed the edge of one of the gashes he'd cut and tore a chunk of flesh from his chest. Dean let out an unholy scream and I think he finally passed out. Eric ate the chunk of meat, which is how I had to think of it otherwise I'd be sick, and started removing the straps that had been holding Dean down. Dean never moved. When he had gotten all the way around the table to me, he stopped. Now what was he up to? Everything he was doing seemed so erratic all of a sudden. I couldn't follow his reasoning behind anything anymore.

"Say goodbye to Papa." He said harshly and hit me so hard I saw spots and then...nothing.


	16. Chapter 16

Sam slowly peeked in the door. There was just one hallway leading off to the right. No one was in sight. Before going in, Sam bent down and grabbed a handful of the gravel from the roadside and stuck it in his pocket.

He could still hear the screaming. It was maddening to think it was Dean or Ben. Up ahead, another hallway split off from the one he was in. He slowly looked around the corner. He didn't see anyone, but the noise was definitely coming from down there. He took one last look around and then popped around the corner.

He moved quickly down the hall, not wanting to get caught out in the open. There was yet another hall leading off to the right, up ahead. Peeking around, Sam caught sight of two ghouls standing outside a double set of doors about 50 feet away. Assuming, hoping, that one of them would stay at it's post, Sam decided to see if he could lure one to him.

Pulling a stone out of his pocket, he tossed it down the hall opposite him. The screaming had stopped and the stone made plenty of noise. He drew back and tried to become one with the wall, readying his gun. Soon he could hear footsteps approaching.

A ghoul popped quickly from the right, pointing a gun down the hall where Sam had tossed the stone. Sam didn't hesitate to put a bullet through the back of his head. He then looked quickly around the corner and then pulled back. The other ghoul, down the hall, fired a shot, but too late. Sam popped out again and fired, taking him down. The ghoul fell backward through the doors. When no one came out, Sam jogged down the hall and went in low.

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A shot rang out somewhere in the building. I came awake but didn't move. I had no idea what Eric was up to and didn't think it wise to let on that I was conscious. Eric, I think, was standing with his back to me between myself and the table. Except he was stripped down to his underwear. Could Dean have gotten the upper hand while I was out? But, no, I scanned the table and Dean was still there, or not. I no longer knew who was who.

Suddenly there were two more shots outside the door and a man fell through them and into the room. The standing-Dean quickly knelt down and started working on the ropes that held my arms. They both had the cuts and gashes all over them. I was so confused and my head was so foggy from the beating, that I was having trouble processing anything. I continued to play dead for lack of any other plan.

Suddenly Sam was there, on the other side of the table. He didn't get too close and was holding a gun out in front of him.

"Dean, oh my God, are you okay?" He was looking at the Dean on the table who had started moaning with the sound of the gunshots.

"Yeah, I'll make it, but you gotta help me get Ben." said the Dean working on my ropes. He had gotten one arm free and was making good progress with the other.

Sam suddenly swung the gun around to us. Apparently he hadn't even noticed us, his eyes glued to the devastation that was his brother, before him on the table.

"Wait who are you? Turn around!" Sam demanded.

This Dean, having finished with my other arm, slowly raised his hands up and turned toward Sam. Upon seeing his face, Sam took an involuntary step back.

"But..then you..." Sam stammered, apparently having just as much trouble as I was in making sense of it all.

"Relax Sammy, he's an alpha, had a snack and made himself look like me." He leaned heavily on the table, having trouble keeping on his feet. "I got the jump on him and knocked him out. Shoot him, so we can get out of here."

"But..." Sam swung the gun to the Dean on the table and then back to the one in front of me.

"Sammy?" came a rasping, hoarse voice from the table-Dean.

Sam swung his gun once more toward the table.

"Yeah, is that really you Dean?"

Table-Dean coughed and wheezed for a minute and then said, "Yeah, who else would I be?"

"See? He's delirious from the thump on the noggin I gave him. Shoot him. What are you waiting for?" asked the standing-Dean.

Sam swung the gun back to him. I slowly leaned down, fighting the immense pain that came with such an action, and started working on the ropes at my ankles. I almost passed out again.

Table-Dean spoke up again. "What? Sammy, no! I'm me! Shoot him! Can't you tell?"

I got one of my ankles free. One more to go. Standing-Dean must have taken a step because Sam suddenly yelled, "Don't move! Not until I can figure this out!"

"Don't be stupid, Sam! It's me! If you can't do it, then give me the gun and I will!"

"I said don't move!"

I got my other ankle free and sat back up. The world spun around me. _Don't pass out. Don't pass out._ It was hard to stop the spinning, but I finally was able to focus my one half open eye on the scene in front of me. I looked as closely as I could at each Dean, studying them, hoping to find a clue as to which was which.

"Sammy," coughed table-Dean, "that is not me. I would tell you some story from our childhood to convince you, but you know he has all of my memories now."

Poor Sam kept swinging his gun from one to the other. I could see the frustration on his face as tears started to form in his eyes.

"Fine." said standing-Dean. "Help me get Ben out of here and then we can come back for him." He motioned toward me with his arm, trying to get Sam to do something, anything.

"Kill us both." Came the raspy voice of the table-Dean.

"What?" Sam and standing-Dean said in unison.

"Kill us both and then you won't need to worry about whether you got the right one or not. Problem solved."

Sam cocked his head to the side a little bit, eyebrows furrowed, looking intently at table-Dean and then swung his gun up toward standing-Dean.

"Back away from my brother, you son of a bitch." Sam said.

As Sam was doing that, standing-Dean grabbed the knife in table-Dean's thigh and, ripping it out, brought it up to table-Dean's throat. He grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, baring his neck.

"Drop the gun or your precious brother buys it right here."

Somehow, something about what table-Dean, or I guess 'Dean', had said, had triggered something in Sam's head, allowing him to figure out who was who. Eric knew he had been made.

"You know if you shoot me, I'll slice his neck. It's a no win situation, so you might as well drop the gun." Eric said.

Eric wasn't watching me at all. In fact, I think he had forgotten all about me in his attempt to ward off Sam and his gun. I was in the perfect place to do something, but what?

"No, you drop the knife first." Sam said.

I crouched down in front of the chair, ignoring the pain raging through my upper body. I launched myself much like an Olympic swimmer, pushing my hands out in front of me. I connected right at his ribcage below his armpit. My hands pushing his arm, and knife, up and away, while my head barreled into his side. We both went down. I continued through the motion and slammed his arm and hand back against the floor until the knife flew away. I straddled him, grabbed his head, and in a blind rage started bashing it against the floor. He fought off my grip and I started pummeling his face, screaming incoherently at him.

Then, out of no where, a hand shoves me off of him and two shots ring out through the room. I land hard, jarring my head on the concrete and the world went black.


	17. Chapter 17

I came to in a hospital room. My face hurt, my chest hurt, my teeth even hurt! At least the swelling was down enough for me to open both eyes. No one was in the room and even the bed next to me was empty. I felt around on the bed and found a nurses call button and gave it a press. I closed my eyes and waited.

The door opened and in walked a nurse full of smiles. "Look who's awake! How are you feeling? Need some pain meds, hon?" She came over and popped a thermometer out of a pocket and proceeded to check my temperature. She then moved on to my blood pressure and oxygen. I went to answer and found I couldn't open my mouth..

"mmm...yes? What's wrong with my mouth?"

"Oh, sweetie, let me send the doctor in and I'll go get you some meds." She popped out as quickly as she came, offering no answers.

I gingerly felt my mouth with my fingers. My mouth felt like it was full of stuff. It felt like metal and rubber bands. I moved on to the rest of my face. I felt stitches across my right eyebrow and then again more around the bottom corner of the right eye and along the cheekbone. I found what felt like those butterfly bandages in a row down the left side of my face in front of my ear to my jaw. As I was trying to figure out what was what, a gentleman came in. He was maybe in his sixties, salt and pepper hair and eyes so light blue they looked like ice. He held his hand out to me. I shook it and he introduced himself.

"Marek Nimitz, how are you Ben?"

"Okay..."

He smiled. "Well, let me fill you in on your status. Your most obvious injury and the one that has you confused, is a broken jaw. It fractured in two places. Your jaw is wired shut. Sorry to say, but you're on a liquid diet for a while to come. It is actually held shut with very tight rubber bands. That's in case you ever find yourself choking or needing to vomit during your recovery time. The rubber bands can be cut quicker than the wire that we used to use in the past. Bit of a misnomer, I guess, to say it's wired shut..."

He seemed to talk fast and my fuzzy brain was having trouble keeping up.

"You'll find you can actually speak quite clearly with your jaw shut." He smiled again. "Your head took a beating, Ben. We've stitched up a few places on your face and the swelling has gone down quite a bit already. You also received a fractured rib, which I'm sure you can feel. It's important for you to take as deep a breath as you can at least once an hour. This will help prevent pneumonia from setting in. And, as odd as it sounds, it'll help to lay on your right side, where the injury is. That will actually help you take deeper breaths."

"How's Dean?"

"Excuse me? Who?"

"Dean, the other guy I was with."

"Oh! I'm not his overseeing physician, I couldn't say, but I do know he's two doors down and stable."

"Thank you. I'd like to see him if I can."

"Well, I wouldn't advise you walk anywhere quite yet...but maybe we can..."

"I can take him down." Sam said from the doorway. "Ben, you've looked better, man."

"Yes, well, after he's had some pain meds, I'll have the nurse bring a wheelchair down." Dr. Nimitz said.

"Thanks doc." Sam said with a smile.

After he left, Sam came over to the bed. "How you doing? Broken jaw I heard." I smiled and his eyes got big. "Woah. I guess so. How's the pain?"

"Once I get some drugs, hopefully better. How's Dean?"

"Lots of blood loss, he's pretty weak. They stitched up most of the wounds, but the one gash on his chest that the ghoul took chunks out of was unable to be closed off with stitches. So...open wound. They are going to use special dressings, keep it clean and see how it does on it's own. He hasn't said barely a word. His voice is a mess." Sam's voice trailed off then. Neither of us wanted to say it, but both thought it. Dean's voice is a mess from extensive screaming, coughing and choking. But by saying it out loud, we would be admitting to the horror he went through and so we remained silent.

"Sam...there's something I need to tell you. As Dean's brother, you should know. I don't know how it's affecting Dean's mental state. I..." I winced.

"Save it, Ben. Just wait for some drugs."

"No, I need to tell you. I lied about how I found you two."

His eyebrows raised. He pulled a chair over and sat down. Just then the nurse returned. She held up a syringe, "Pain meds!"

"Listen, don't give me so much, it knocks me out, okay? I just want to dull it a bit."

She made a face at me. "But sweetie, you need your rest."

Sam spoke up, "Ma'am, please."

"Fine, but you call if you need more, you understand?" I nodded my head and smiled the best I could.

Sam chuckled. After she left I looked at him, questioningly. "You really shouldn't smile. With all the swelling and colors and stitches, it looks like the grimace from a carnival freak show. … So you were saying?"

"I, uh..." I guess this would be easier if I just blurt out. "I've been searching for my biological father and have had no luck. As a last resort and more on a whim than any thought of actually finding anything, I checked my DNA against collected samples in the national law enforcement database." My voice kind of faded out. My throat was so dry. Sam must have caught on, because he grabbed a cup from a side table and handed it to me. The straw and drinking with a wired shut jaw...not so easy.

After a struggle with my water, I continued. "Dean came up as a match. 97% match, in fact."

I took as deep a breath as my ribs would let me and tried rolling onto my side as the doctor had suggested. I watched Sam to see how he took this news. His eyebrows went up in a look of surprise. He stood up suddenly and started to pace around the room, opening and closing his mouth like he was going to say something and then deciding against it. Finally he returned to my bedside and grabbed my hand and shook it.

"I've got a nephew!" he said with a huge grin on his face.

"So, you're not upset by this news?"

"Well, it's hard to say how Dean will take it and I'm not about to guess, but I think it's great!"

"Yeah, um, about Dean...he already knows."

Sam stopped grinning. "What? How?"

"The alpha ghoul found out, somehow, and used the information while torturing Dean. It isn't how I wanted to let you guys know. Far from it, but it came out and now...I just need to see him. I need to talk to him."

Sam thought for a moment. "Man. Okay. Let me see if I can find out what happened to that wheel chair."

Sam left the room and I lay there worrying. The drugs were starting to take effect, dulling the more extreme pain. A few minutes later, Sam returned pushing a wheel chair. He parked it next to the bed and, between the two of us, somehow managed to get me into it. My hands were shaking with the effort.

Before we left the room, Sam came around in front of me and offered his support. "Listen, Ben, if you want I'll stay with you in there and deflect his more stinging barbs."

"No. I need to talk to him alone, I think, but thank you...Uncle Sam." I said with a grin in my voice.

"Okay, and Ben? Don't ever call me Uncle Sam again, okay?" He laughed and went around to push me down the hall.

Outside Dean's room, Sam reminded me that he may not even be awake,offered his support again, and then pushed me in.

It did, in fact, look like he was asleep. Sam pushed me up next to his bed, patted my shoulder, and then left. I sat there for a while and just looked at him. He had an oxygen tube under his nose and an IV in his left arm. They had him in a hospital gown that opened in front, to allow access to the wounds on his chest. Just above the top of the sheets, I could see the dressings through the gap in his gown. Images from the torture came flooding into my mind and I tried closing my eyes against them. That didn't work. I gently leaned my forehead against the mattress of Dean's bed.

I lifted my head after a while and looked at Dean's hand lying on the bed in front of me. The wrist was wrapped in some gauze from the restraints. His hands were worn and callused. Hands that worked. It looked like there was grease or something ground in around some of the nails. Possibly from working on his car. Acting on a sudden urge, I reached out and took his hand in mine. Thoughts of countless fatherless outings as a kid ran through my mind. Tears came to my eyes. I can't stay in his life. He has obviously had a rough life and doesn't need me adding to his worries. Look what I had gotten him already. Emotional torture on top of the physical.

"Dean...dad...I don't even know what to call you. I'm sure you can't hear this, but, but...I need to say this." I kept my eyes on his hand or the floor. "I went looking for a guy with a criminal record as long as my arm and instead I found you. Man! I never wanted you to find out the way you did and for that I am so sorry. You didn't deserve that. In the short time I've known you, you have shown me courage, strength, smarts, and love..." I chuckled "...in your own way. I never thought I could grow to respect someone so much over so short a time. I mean, well...listen, I know, now, why you did what you did all those years ago. After everything I've seen over the last few days...I get it. I really do. Your life must be full of all kinds of messed up shit and I can understand the idea of protecting those you care about. And when I'm set to go from here, I'll go. I won't hang around and cause trouble or mess up your life, which you've been living just fine without my distraction in it for all these years. I just...I just want you to know that, ...I'm honored to consider myself your son."

I just sat there, numb, staring at the floor, the tears rolling down my damaged face. Then there was a small squeeze to my hand. I looked up, having forgotten that I was holding his hand in mine. My eyes traveled his arm up to his face. He was looking at me, a tear having recently traveled down his cheek.

"Ben." His voice was quite raspy and quiet. "You go where you want, do what you want, you live your life,... but don't ever **go**. And Dean...call me Dean. Dad makes me feel old."With that he closed his eyes and drifted off, never loosening his grip on my hand.

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"Are you sure you're okay with this?" I asked nervously.

"Seriously Franken-Ben? You've asked me that a hundred times already! Anyway, I think when the dinner is on the table and they are scheduled to arrive any moment, it's really not the time to ask, you think?"

Amber had moved in with me about three months ago and things were still going great. I smiled at her pet name for me. She adores my scars for some strange reason. Says they make me look tougher.

I had fired up the grill special for tonight's guests. Home made bacon cheeseburgers, salt potatoes, green beans and salad. Amber even made a pie for dessert. She still can hardly cook but she has found a niche with desserts and if I don't watch it, I won't pass my physical next year.

"You remembered to get the beer?" I asked.

"Chilled and on ice in the cooler on the deck. Will you relax?"

"I'm trying, really, I am." My heart was racing I was so nervous.

"You'd think I would be the one that's nervous. I'll be the one surrounded by giants after all." She said with a grin.

I was about to respond when the doorbell rang. I looked down at her and she gave me the most beautiful smile. Everything was going to be fine, but my feet remained rooted to the spot. She squeezed my hand and went over to open the door.

There, in the doorway, stood two tall men. The first, slightly shorter then the other, with short hair, briefly nodded at Amber, barely looking at her. His eyes were scanning the room ahead until they met mine. His face cracked into a silly lopsided grin and he came right at me.

He gave me a hug and said quietly into my ear, "Good to see you, kid."

I hugged him back, "You too dad, er, Dean."


End file.
